


New Little Habitats

by lunesolei



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Dancing around each other, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possible Out Of Character-ness, Post-Movie, Post-Series, Slow Burn, but i tried, forced to share space, learning to get along, they really do care about each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunesolei/pseuds/lunesolei
Summary: The rescue mission to infiltrate the Presidential bunker has lasted well over three hours and people are getting restless. Not only was it made difficult because the whole damn building had sunk underground, but Wing Zero crash landing on the thing hadn’t made it any easier. The first wave of the rescue team had been lowered down with rappelling ropes to see to any injuries. While the second rescue team had been in charge of creating a makeshift elevator and pulley system to raise the survivors.The days following Mariemaia's attempted coup leave the world in flux. The Gundam pilots remain in Brussels, awaiting debriefing and trying to decide how to move forward while recovering from the unexpected battle.
Relationships: Trowa Barton & Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton/Heero Yuy
Comments: 115
Kudos: 54
Collections: TrowaxHeero





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Heero crashed his Gundam into the Presidential bunker during Mariemaia's attempted coup, and before the pilots detonate their Gundams at the end of Endless Waltz. Basically, it's my headcanon on how they got from the coup to the idea of detonation. I tried to make them as in-character as I could, but of course there will be differences so I apologize in advance. Also, it does exist within the same quasi-universe as my other fic, _Cartography of a Memory_ , though you don't need to read it to understand this. 
> 
> Finally, the title is taken from this quote found in D.H. Lawrence's _Lady Chatterly's Lover_ :  
> "Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen."

Trowa stands with the others at the gates of the Presidential House. Preventers move through the crowds, cordoning off areas and taking pictures. Next to him Quatre and Duo chat softly while Wufei watches the proceedings critically. Technically speaking, they’re supposed to be guarding Wufei, but Trowa doubts anyone actually believes that.

The rescue mission to infiltrate the Presidential bunker has lasted well over three hours and people are getting restless. Not only was it made difficult because the whole damn building had sunk underground, but Wing Zero crash landing on the thing hadn’t made it any easier. The first wave of the rescue team had been lowered down with rappelling ropes to see to any injuries. While the second rescue team had been in charge of creating a makeshift elevator and pulley system to raise the survivors.

Trowa’s eyes remain fastened to the cordoned off pit where the bunker sits. There is a sudden shout and the group of medics that had gone in an hour earlier emerges with a stretcher. He strains his eyes and feels his body tense but a moment later he relaxes in relief when he recognizes the red hair of Mariemaia Kushrenada. A breathing mask covers her nose and her eyes are closed.

Behind her comes the team of Preventers that had accompanied the medics into the bunker. They have their guns trained on Mariemaia’s soldiers. The Preventers in the yard pause to look up as the prisoners are ushered over to their comrades. Still, Trowa’s nerves jump anxiously. 

“They’ll be the next out for sure,” Duo reassures their small group. His voice isn’t as sure as usual though and Trowa feels his stomach twist. It had been a major crash and no one should have been able to survive it, but well, he’d seen stranger things happen during the war.

“They wouldn’t be going through all this effort if there weren’t more survivors,” Quatre points out.

He hears her barking orders before he makes out Lady Une’s imposing figure as she leaves the bunker and heads toward the ambulance Mariemaia had been placed in. More Preventers come with her, hastening to fall in line with her commands. When they break to help their fellows, the pilots are able to make out the wayward pilot they had been waiting for. Heero is walking unassisted, though Relena seems to be hovering near at hand. 

A cheer rings up from the gathered civilian crowd when they view the Vice Foreign Minister. She looks up, smile bright on her tired face, and gives a wave to the assembled crowd. One of the Preventers turns at the cheer and Trowa recognizes him immediately. Zechs breaks from the group and strides across the yard to pull his sister into a tight hug. It isn’t surprising that Noin seemingly materializes next to them, her hand pressed to Relena’s shoulder.

Heero’s head tilts and he catches sight of the four pilots gathered at the feet of Sandrock. He turns in their direction, looking tired and grim but otherwise unharmed. Trowa breaks from the group, feeling the anger rushing through his veins now that he knows Heero has survived. He meets Heero halfway and the younger pilot eyes him warily.

“You are a bastard,” Trowa states. 

“Trowa -”

The fires crackle, smoke hangs heavy in the air. Distantly he hears chopper blades overhead, the chattering of gathered civilians, radio static and harsh commands from the Preventers. He punches Heero hard in the jaw, only slightly surprised that Heero doesn’t try to block or move out of the way. Behind him he hears Quatre and Duo yell something unintelligible, feels Wufei’s eyes heavy on the back of his head.

“He’s going to punch back, he did that to me when we were on the colony,” Duo announces to Quatre and Wufei.

“Shut-up, Maxwell,” Wufei snaps.

“I don’t understand,” Quatre says. He hurries toward them and Duo and Wufei follow. “Trowa, what’s gotten into you?”

“Going to throw another punch, or is it out of your system now?” Heero asks, eyebrow rising curiously.

“I thought you’d block it,” he admits. He crosses his arms, tilts his chin down. “Guess you’re getting old.”

Heero snorts, ignores the others as they join them. “Give me a break; I just crashed a Gundam into a bunker.”

“Why does Trowa get a free pass on the punch?” Duo questions. “Especially since _you_ told me to punch you?”

“Only you would be lucky enough to survive that,” Wufei says, shaking his head. “It was impressive to watch.”

“Glad to see you finally saw reason,” Heero states, eyeing Wufei.

Wufei shrugs. “You made a valid argument,” he agrees. “Now, what was with that little performance?” Duo snorts at the word choice and ignores Trowa’s impassive look.

“He’s mad that I improvised,” Heero states.

“ _I’m_ still mad that I got sucker punched for nothing,” Duo points out, “if anyone’s wondering.”

“It was reckless,” Quatre points out. “What would have happened if the shield didn’t break? Or, if you crashed _on_ Relena?”

“I guess we’d be having a different conversation then,” Heero answers. Quatre rubs his temples and lets out a long suffering sigh.

“You should get checked out,” Trowa says quietly. Heero frowns. “I didn’t spend months patching you up just for you to ruin it by playing at being a martyr.”

“That wasn’t what I was doing,” Heero protests. His eyes flash dangerously. “It was the only way to get into the bunker, what would you have preferred? By the time the Preventers finally got it open Relena could have been dead.” He takes a breath, stares hard at Trowa. “It may not have been what you were anticipating but it was the only way.”

“You put yourself -”

“In no more danger than when you went undercover again,” Heero interrupts. He crosses his arms and Trowa’s eyes drop automatically to his left one. There is a slight tremble, but it’s not as bad as he anticipated. 

“Can we agree we were all in danger and -” Quatre begins.

“That has nothing to do with anything,” Trowa states, voice eerily detached. “I was never in any physical danger. As you plainly saw.” Wufei snorts and Trowa sends him a look before he shoves his hands into his pockets, tilts his head so his face is hidden behind the fall of his hair. “What would you advise if it was one of us in your place?”

Heero’s jaw tightens. For a moment Trowa thinks Heero might actually take a swing at him after all. “Fine,” Heero snaps. Duo’s jaw falls open in surprise and Wufei elbows him none too gently to get him to focus again. “But I want Sally to check me over, not some second-rate -”

“Okay,” Trowa agrees.

“Great,” Quatre chimes in. “We’ll just go look for Sally, shall we?” he asks, looking at Duo and Wufei. Wufei stares back impassively. “Trowa, you make sure Heero rests.”

“And since when did we become Yuy’s personal servants?” Wufei questions as they depart.

“Since Trowa got him to agree to medical attention,” Duo replies. “Trust me, it’s better this way. Did I ever tell you about the Hospital Incident?”


	2. Chapter 2

Heero hates hospitals. He hates the white walls, the fluorescent lighting, and the antiseptic smells. Most of all though, he hates the falsely cheerful nurses who constantly come in to check on him when he’s _supposed to be resting_.

His eyes narrow as one such nurse bustles into the room. He _knows_ he told Sally to limit the nursing staff admitted to his room. He isn’t sure if she ignored him or they ignored her. At any rate, he’s itching for a gun to aim at them. The nurse is young, brunette, and shows too many teeth when she smiles.

“And how are we doing tonight?” she questions. “Were you one of the ones involved in that scuffle up at the President’s house?” He raises an eyebrow at the word. _Scuffle_. She checks his chart and compares it to the readouts on the monitors. “Come now, cat got your tongue?”

“I didn’t think conversation was needed to check the machines.” He stares up at the ceiling and ignores the amusement he can feel rolling off of Trowa from across the room. He’s trying to listen to the conversation taking place in the hallway outside his room.

She makes a clucking sound and smiles at him again. “Come now, that’s no way to talk.” She visibly jumps as she catches sight of Trowa when she goes to replace Heero’s chart. “I’m sorry; I didn’t see you sitting there.” Trowa shrugs, sips from the coffee cup in his hand. “Are you a family member?”

“I’m his guard,” Trowa states calmly. Heero crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring the pull of the IV in his wrist.

“Right,” she says. The chart clatters back into place at the foot of Heero’s bed. “Dr. Po is just waiting on your lab results, Mr. Yuy.”

“Great,” he replies, closing his eyes. After a moment he hears her sneakered feet retreat, the door swinging shut once more. “My guard?” he asks.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes; he can hear the smile in Trowa’s voice. “Someone has to make sure you don’t make a break for it. Duo may have mentioned what happened when you were in the hospital during the war once or twice.”

“Duo’s the one who came up with the plan to jump out the window,” Heero grumbles. He sits up and begins removing the blood pressure cuff and electrodes placed on his chest. “Don’t start,” he adds, looking up at Trowa. “I’m not running a fever, my blood pressure is fine, and the burn on my shoulder is only second degree. I even let Sally stitch my leg up without complaining.”

“You do have a concussion,” Trowa points out, “that could explain your uncharacteristically good behavior. And your breathing is shallower, probably because of a rib injury. What are you doing?”

“Going to find Sally and get discharged already.” He’s stopped from removing the IV by a warm hand covering his. “Trowa.”

“You’ve only been here a couple of hours. Whether you’re injured or not, you should rest.”

“What about the others?”

“Relena’s with Zechs. Wufei’s being debriefed by Noin.” Heero smirks and Trowa shakes his head. “You can’t watch, I already asked. Duo’s getting some food and Quatre’s seeing to the Gundams.”

“And you get to babysit me.”

“And I get to babysit you,” Trowa agrees. He tosses his empty coffee cup into the trash before sitting in one of the bedside chairs. “Seems to be a reoccurring theme.”

\--

Heero has a moderate concussion, two fractured ribs on his right side and three bruised on his left. His left shoulder has some bruising and swelling from where he’d knocked against the cockpit seat while his right has a second degree burn, he has contusions across his shoulders and chest from Zero’s restraints, and his left calf needed twenty-six stitches from a laceration caused by a piece of broken gundanium. Overall, Sally is impressed with his lack of severe injuries, especially to his cervical vertebrae.

“You would think the crash would have given you at least whiplash,” she explains, flipping through his chart.

“You sound disappointed.”

“Never,” she replies. She glances up, eyes laughing. “On the contrary, your medical history continues to be fascinating. I’m glad Dr. Seibert allowed me to step in to oversee your treatment.”

“So I’m free to go?” he demands.

Sally sighs, and lets his chart flip closed again. “I would rather you stay for observation with that concussion, but yes. You’re free to go if you choose.”

“Great.”

“ _But_ , you should have someone check-in on you to make sure the concussion doesn’t worsen. I can’t do it since Zechs is requesting a second opinion to look over Relena-”

“Relena’s injured?” Heero questions.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” Sally replies. Heero snorts in response.

“Surely you can say _why_ Zechs wants a second opinion,” Trowa counters. “She looked fine leaving the bunker.”

Sally frowns at them both. “He doesn’t trust the doctors,” she says finally.

“He does have some sense,” Heero replies, nodding. Trowa rolls his eyes and Sally sighs loudly.

“Which brings me back to your concussion. You should have someone you trust check on you, one of the other pilots?”

Heero’s eyes narrow and he sighs. “Fine.” He yanks the IV out before Sally can (he ignores her protest of “ _Heero!_ ” at the action) and shrugs out of the hospital gown. He holds a hand out toward Trowa expectantly. Trowa raises an eyebrow in response, hands him a folded napkin to staunch the bleeding. “You heard her, I’m free. Hand over my clothes.”

“I don’t know, maybe you should stay overnight,” Trowa replies.

“I’ve had worse,” he replies. He presses the napkin to his arm and stares at Trowa. “I have no issues walking out dressed like this.”

Sally rolls her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Let me go see if I can get you some antibiotic cream for the burn and an oral antibiotic for your leg while you two sort out Heero’s wardrobe.”

Trowa sighs and tosses Heero his bloodied jeans and tank top. “Must you be so stubborn?” he asks. Heero shrugs as he pulls on the jeans, muttering as the material catches on the bandage wrapped around his calf. “Come here,” Trowa instructs when he goes to put the shirt on. “Let me help.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Heero snaps. He walks over anyway and Trowa helps him pull the tank top on.

“Why mess with your ribs and back if you don’t have to?” Trowa replies. “Sit down so I can put your sneakers on. I still can’t believe they survived the war.” Heero snorts, taking a seat on the chair Trowa had been occupying as he moves to kneel in front of him.

Sally returns as he’s finished lacing up the second sneaker. She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “Here, I managed to get the cream _and_ sweet-talk the pharmacist into filling the oral prescription. I also threw in some more bandages, and a suture kit.”

“Thank you,” Trowa states, taking the bag from Sally. Heero nods, hurrying out the door before Sally can change her mind about his discharge. “I’ll watch him,” Trowa adds, following Heero out the door. He hears Sally’s muttered _good luck_ trail him into the hall.

They don’t get far.

Duo’s halfway down the hall talking with Lady Une and he waves them over as soon as he sees them. “Heero making a break for it?” he asks gleefully, taking a large bite of the sandwich in his hands.

“Sally says I’m good to go.”

“With supervision,” Trowa adds. Heero shrugs and looks at Lady Une.

“I can come in tomorrow, unless I need to debrief now?” he asks.

“Hm? Oh, no. Tomorrow is fine.” She rubs her temples and Heero glances into the room she’s standing outside of. “She’ll need surgery,” she says, following his gaze. “They’re prepping for it now.”

“Have you spoken to her since?” Heero asks. He watches the girl in the room, oxygen mask on and red hair splayed like fresh blood on the crisp white pillow.

“No, they’ve given her pain medication and a good sedative.” She turns to them, pulls something together that looks like a smile. “It looks like we owe you Gundam pilots again,” she states quietly. “It’s not much, but I made some calls and booked a room at a nearby hotel for you all. Unfortunately, between the holidays and additional Preventers teams that have been called in, it’s impossible to get individual rooms.”

“Nah, we appreciate it,” Duo replies. “Better than spending the night in a cockpit, trust me.” He balls up the sandwich wrapper and tosses it into the garbage bin by the nurses’ desk.

Une smiles and looks at the three of them. “I was expecting Mr. Yuy to be kept overnight, but I’m sure you can get a rollaway or two added to the rooms. I’ve already notified Mr. Winner about the accommodations. Unfortunately, Mr. Chang won’t be able to join you tonight.”

Heero frowns. “Wufei helped out.”

“He did,” Une agrees. “But he still defected. Proper procedure needs to be followed.”

“How long exactly will that take? Since you’re so short staffed and all at the moment,” Duo asks. He shifts slightly as he crosses his arms.

“However long he decides to make it,” Une replies evenly.

“And the procedure for former pilots?” Heero asks. “How long until we’re questioned?”

Lady Une turns away from the door and stares at them for a moment. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “I’ve called in all the agents, but between holidays and recovery it might be a day or two. I trust that you can find a way to quietly occupy yourselves until Noin is able to bring you in. We want this handled quickly, but it was my belief that none of you wanted your affiliation broadcast for the world. Bringing you in now when Preventers is surrounded by rabid reporters would remove any anonymity you have remaining.”

“We understand, thank you for the room, Ma’am,” Trowa intercedes. He takes the piece of paper with the hotel information on it, ignoring Heero’s look. Une nods at them briskly, effectively dismissing them, and goes back to monitoring the girl in the hospital room.


	3. Chapter 3

The hotel is sleek and modern, not too pricey but definitely a couple steps up from the usual governmental accommodation fare. They meet Quatre in the lobby. The blonde looks exhausted, but he still stands and smiles when they approach. “Lady Une called about the room,” he explains.

“And the Gundams?” Heero asks. They take up a spot leaning against the wall while Trowa and Duo check in at the front desk. Heero rests his uninjured shoulder against the wall and observes the employees moving swiftly from lobby to back rooms.

Quatre shrugs, gaze casually directed toward the front entrance. “The Maganacs took possession of our three, and Wufei’s. I couldn’t get Zero away from the Preventers. It’s part of the official investigation.” Heero’s eyes narrow and he glances at Quatre. Quatre shrugs again. “There’s a lot of red tape.”

“I’ll sort it with Une,” Heero mutters. “Did you see Wufei?”

“Last I saw Miss Noin was escorting him in for questioning. I’m sure he’ll be there for a while.”

Heero nods. “That’s the impression Une gave.”

Quatre shakes his head, stifles a yawn with his hand. “It makes sense, I’m sure her hands are tied at the moment. I don’t think it surprised Wufei, except maybe that it was Miss Noin doing the questioning.” There’s a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth as he says it.

Heero smirks, straightens up as the other two head their way. “I wonder if they’ll record the interview,” he muses and Quatre lets out a small chuckle.

“We’re on the third floor,” Duo announces, waving a key card in the air. “This is a swanky place,” he comments as they head for the stairs. “Think Une’s trying to buy our cooperation?”

“The girl said we could call down for rollaways if we need to once we see the room,” Trowa comments.

“Sounds good,” Quatre replies around a yawn. “I don’t care if we are being bought as long as the bed is comfortable.”

\--

The room isn’t bad: two double beds, a good-sized bathroom, and a small balcony. There’s a table and chairs pushed into one corner and a wall-mounted TV. They don’t bother to turn it on, sure they know what will be on it already. “I’m grabbing a shower, you guys can call down and get the rollaways,” Duo announces.

Quatre looks around dubiously as Duo heads for the bathroom. “Where will we put them?” he asks.

“Duo, wait,” Trowa calls. Duo pauses, hand on the bathroom door.

“If you need to take a piss make it quick. I feel like I’m covered in a week’s worth of grime,” Duo grumbles.

Trowa rolls his eyes. “Just hand me the smaller towels – the washcloths or some of the hand towels.”

Duo shrugs. “Sure, whatever.” He grabs them off the counter and tosses them to Trowa. “I’ll try and save ya’ll some hot water. No promises though!” he adds before closing the door firmly.

“I’m getting ice,” Trowa announces, grabbing the empty ice bucket from the table and leaving the folded towels on it. He disappears out the door and Quatre looks at Heero.

“Guess we’d better call for the rollaways,” he says.

“I’ll do it. Sit down before you fall over,” Heero replies. Quatre laughs quietly at that.

“Somehow, I think I should be the one saying that to _you_ ,” Quatre replies. He sits at the table though, head pillowed on his folded arms while Heero makes the call to the front desk.

Trowa returns as Heero is hanging up the phone. He raises an eyebrow when he sees Quatre dozing at the table. “Why didn’t he take one of the beds?”

Heero shrugs. “They’re sending the rollaway up now.”

Trowa raises an eyebrow as he sets the ice bucket on one of the end tables. “Only one?”

Heero glances pointedly around the room. “I think two would be a bit of a squeeze,” he replies. “I can call back.” He winces as Duo begins singing in the bathroom. “Or we could stick him in the hallway.”

Trowa laughs quietly. “No, you’re right. Sit down and let’s get your shirt off. I want to get that ointment on you.” Heero lets Trowa help him out of his shirt, toes his sneakers off on his own, and sits down on the edge of one of the beds. “I’ll try and wash the blood out when Duo’s done in there.”

“You don’t have to,” Heero replies. He pauses as Quatre makes a snuffling noise at the table. “I told you before I’m not an invalid this time; I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you were an invalid,” Trowa counters, “in the war or now.” He peels back the loose bandage on Heero’s shoulder. “It’s probably going to scar.” Heero shrugs and Trowa begins to rub the antibiotic cream onto the burn. What’s one more scar, after all? “Are you upset because it’s me looking after you, again? Or, is it because the others are around this time?”

Heero is silent for a while. Long enough for Trowa to recap the ointment and loosely bandage the injured area again. “Neither,” he says finally.

“Then stop trying to fight me,” Trowa replies. There’s a knock at the door and Quatre jerks, head slipping off his folded arms and hitting the table. Heero’s hand reaches automatically for his gun. “I’ll get it.”

“You okay?” Heero asks, glancing at Quatre. He keeps Trowa and the door in view, fingers tight on the grip of his handgun. Trowa checks the peephole, silently taps his right pointer finger to his thumb twice, and Heero lets his fingers go lax, slides the gun under the pillow next to him.

“Yeah, just tired.” He rubs at his forehead and sits up as a porter comes in with the folded up rollaway bed. “Duo’s _still_ showering?”

“Must be all that hair,” Heero replies. Duo hits something close to a high note. “Or he’s enjoying the acoustics.”

Quatre smiles, gets up to help with the rollaway bed. He and Trowa end up setting it up against the wall between the small closet and the wall-mounted TV. Quatre slips the porter a tip and closes the door firmly behind him, sliding the safety chain in place. The shower turns off, though Duo’s off-key singing continues for a few more bars.

Trowa returns to Heero while Quatre busies himself with setting up the bedding. “Back or stomach?” Trowa questions, grabbing the towels and ice bucket.

“Stomach,” Heero decides. He kicks off his jeans and lies down on his stomach, arms folded underneath the pillow, and Trowa begins scooping ice into the towels and twisting them closed. He places the makeshift icepacks along Heero’s bare ribcage. Absently, Heero fingers the grip of the gun, checks that the safety is engaged.

“I’m either more tired than I thought, or this is actually really comfortable,” Quatre sighs, settling onto the rollaway.

“Probably both,” Trowa comments.

“Mm,” Quatre agrees. “The adrenaline must be crashing.”

The bathroom door opens with a cloud of steam and Duo almost stumbles into Quatre where he’s sprawled inelegantly across the rollaway bed. “You look like shit, Quat,” Duo states, peering at him. Quatre gives a tired laugh that quickly turns into a full-on yawn.

“Go to sleep, Quatre, it’s been a long couple of days,” Trowa states, placing the ice bucket on one of the end tables. He grabs Heero’s discarded shirt and jeans and heads for the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the room.

“Mm,” Quatre agrees. “I don’t know why you all aren’t just as tired,” he mumbles into the pillow.

“I’m exhausted,” Duo replies. He stands in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door, finger-combing his wet hair and then twisting it into a braid. By the time he’s done, Trowa has exited the bathroom again, Heero’s clothes left hanging over the shower door to dry. “I could sleep for a week,” Duo yawns.

“Then do so,” Heero states, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Ha-ha-ha,” Duo replies, “Glad to see your sense of humor is still as terrible as ever.” He turns to the room in time to see Trowa shuck off his turtleneck, fold it, and place it on top of the table next to the discarded ice bucket. Something niggles at Duo’s memory and it takes him a moment to put his finger on it. “Hey, they only brought one rollaway,” Duo realizes. Trowa glances over as he folds his jeans, placing them next to his turtleneck. “Are they bringing up another?”

“No need,” Trowa replies. He climbs into bed next to Heero and Duo blinks, looks at Quatre to see if he’s seeing the same thing he’s seeing. Quatre’s blinks are so long it’s hard to judge whether he’s surprised of if he’s simply fighting to stay in the waking world. “Easier to check his concussion this way.”

Heero rolls his eyes, looks at Duo. “Don’t forget to shut the light off before going to sleep.”

Duo’s mouth works, but no sound comes out. Heero looks pleased with the result and Duo glares, shuts his mouth tightly. “Yeah, yeah, fine.”

Quatre blinks and stirs himself enough to crawl under the covers. He shrugs at Duo. “Good night, guys.”

“Night,” Trowa replies. Heero grunts and mutters something that _might_ be good night.

“G’night,” Duo echoes, switches off the light and face plants onto his own gloriously soft bed. The hotel really _is_ nice. He bets breakfast will be delicious.


	4. Chapter 4

Heero dozes, but doesn’t really sleep.

Trowa’s breathing is soft and even next to him, Duo’s is deep and quiet in the other bed. Quatre’s is loud and obnoxious, snoring on every third inhale. He can hear people talking in the hallway outside, moving in the room above and to the right of theirs. Judging by the time displayed on the clock they’re either late-returning party-goers or a changing shift of mislaid Preventers agents.

Trowa wakes after two hours, reaches a hand out to press carefully against Heero’s shoulder in the dim light. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Some,” Heero admits. He winces as Trowa shines a light in his eyes. “Shit, Trowa, warning?” he grumbles. He moves a hand to cover his eyes, but Trowa bats it away easily, grips Heero’s chin and tilts his head. In the next bed, Duo’s breathing hitches and the sheets rustle as he moves. “I told you, I’m fine,” Heero rasps.

“You always say that,” Trowa replies. He lets go of Heero’s chin and turns the penlight off.

Heero snorts. “I usually am.” He reaches up, pushing Trowa’s shoulder until the taller pilot is lying back down. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“You’re grouchy when you don’t get your two hours.”

“I’m grouchy when I _only_ get two hours.” He pauses, listening to the flush of a toilet above them, the slam of a door further down the hall, Quatre’s latest snore. “Stop eavesdropping and go back to sleep, Duo,” Heero orders, not even bothering to look over at him. He’s been aware of Duo’s listening since he started shifting around. The only time Duo is ever still is when he’s asleep.

“Gee, Buddy, I’d love to. Only problem is there’re these two annoying—" Duo’s voice breaks off as Trowa hurls a pillow across the divide at him. Judging by Trowa’s smirk, Heero’s pretty positive it hit Duo square-on. “Thanks for the extra pillow, guys.”

Trowa turns his face into his remaining pillow, stifling a laugh.

“Too much talking,” Quatre mumbles. “Sleep.” He’s snoring again almost immediately.

Trowa shifts until Heero can see his face again. “Go to sleep,” Trowa murmurs.

Heero gives him a look he isn’t sure he can read in the dim light. He tenses as footsteps approach the room before relaxing as they continue past. 

“It’s just like the circus, tune it out.” Trowa yawns and lets his eyes close halfway. “You need to rest.”

“ _I’d_ like to rest,” Duo states. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

Heero grabs the extra pillow on his side, twisting to fling it at Duo’s head. He lies back down, feeling the pressure of his lungs against his injured ribs, and tries to ignore Trowa’s _look_.

\--

Quatre and Duo are still sound asleep when Trowa wakes to early morning light shining through the gaps in the curtains. He can feel the tell-tale thrum in his veins that means he’s had another nightmare, but he can’t remember the contents. He yawns, rolling over to face the other side of the bed. Heero’s side of the bed is empty and Trowa sits up, frowning. It concerns him that Heero was able to slip away without waking him. The spot is still faintly warm when he presses a hand to it, so he hasn’t been gone for too long. Kicking back the covers he sees the smear of blood on the sheets and his frown deepens.

He gets up, pulls on his jeans but foregoes the sweater for now, skin still feeling too tight from whatever dreams he’d had the night before. He clutches the turtleneck in his hands as he pads over to the bathroom and knocks softly on the closed door. It opens and Heero is standing there, dark smudges under his eyes and holding the bag Sally had given them last night. “Popped a couple stitches,” Heero answers Trowa’s unspoken question.

“Let me see,” Trowa replies. Heero steps aside and Trowa follows him into the bathroom, closing the door behind them and locking it. Heero boosts himself onto the counter and lifts his leg so that Trowa can examine his calf. Trowa sighs, dropping his sweater on the counter and grabbing the suturing kit from the bag. “How did you pop them? You were supposed to be resting.”

“You kicked me.” Heero shrugs at Trowa’s surprised look. “Nightmare. It’s better than the time you pulled the knife on me in Barcelona.”

“I apologized for that,” Trowa mutters. He washes his hands, gets to work on cleaning the blood away with a piece of damp gauze. “You startled me,” he adds. “Looks like you only popped three or four.”

“You popped three or four,” Heero corrects. He ignores Trowa’s glare and hands him the scissors and tweezers so he can remove the thread. “Are the others awake?”

“Not when I came in,” Trowa replies. He begins cutting the knots and sliding the thread out. Heero busies himself with threading the suturing needle. He hands it to Trowa when he’s finished removing the old stitches. “Did you sleep at all?”

“An hour? Maybe two,” Heero admits. He leans back so that his shoulders and head rest against the mirror above the counter. Trowa’s partially bent to better see the wound, his careful fingers sliding the needle in and out of Heero’s skin, looping and tying off each stitch. “Quatre snores too much.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t smother him.” Heero smirks at the top of Trowa’s head. “He never had to learn to be quiet,” Trowa adds, voice quiet and serious. Trowa shifts and Heero catches the bruising on his shoulders. “What?” he asks as Heero presses a finger to it. “Hold still.”

He shifts, ignores Trowa’s protest, and looks at the way the bruises trail down his sternum. “You took some heavy hits to get bruising like this,” Heero comments, fingers light on the purple-blue marks. Trowa manhandles him back into position and finishes tying off the third stitch.

“Noin and Zechs were trying to reduce casualties. We followed suit. It’s just bruising, nothing broken. Stay still, this is the last one.”

Heero sighs and leans back against the mirror again. “From what I heard you did a good job of that. I don’t think any of Dekim’s soldiers were killed.”

“Until you dropped a Gundam on them.” Trowa ties off the last stitch and cuts the thread. “And you say I’m dramatic.”

“I said you liked to show-off,” Heero replies. He watches Trowa clean off the needle and repack the suture kit. “You still do. Did you really go undercover using _Trowa Barton_?”

Trowa’s smile is quicksilver and he ducks his head to search for a new bandage. Heero chuckles quietly, fishes out the bottle of antibiotics and pops two of the pills into his mouth. He dry swallows them while Trowa covers the sutures with the new bandage.

“I’ve gotten used to the name,” he admits as he’s taping the edges down.

Heero watches him for a moment before nodding. “It suits you,” he agrees before the corners of his mouth lift in a smirk. “Next time use Duo’s, it’s what I do.”

Trowa laughs. One of his rare full-body laughs that Heero’s only seen a handful of times. Heero smiles and waits until Trowa regains control of himself. It only takes a few seconds, twenty tops. “Of course you do,” Trowa says finally. “Does Duo know?”

Heero shrugs, hands him the cream for his shoulder. “I told him about one of them. The rest are on him.”

\--

Quatre looks up from the room service menu when the bathroom door opens. “Perfect timing, guys,” he says, smiling. “We were just deciding what to order.”

“Finally,” Duo exclaims. He crawls out of bed and heads for the bathroom. “Next time you plan on hogging the bathroom let me know so I can go first.” He slams the door behind him. “Don’t forget the extra bacon!” he yells through the closed door.

Quatre holds the room service menu up. “We were planning on eggs, pancakes, bacon, fruit…any preferences?”

“How much are you planning to order?” Heero asks. He takes the menu and flips through it idly. “I’ll have toast and coffee,” he says. He hands the menu to Trowa to look through.

“That’s it?” Quatre asks, surprised. “I was going to pay, you can order more if you’d like.”

Heero shakes his head, sits down on the bed and turns the TV on, muting it immediately. He flips through the channels while Trowa peruses the menu. Reporters fill the screen, the Brussels Presidential House in the background, Preventers moving around as they photograph evidence and search for survivors. Every so often he catches a glint of metal from the subterranean bunker. They haven’t moved Zero yet.

“Eggs are fine,” Trowa says finally. “And coffee.” He sits next to Heero, eyes fastened to the television screen while Quatre phones room service. The bathroom door opens and Duo bounces out. “Anything interesting?”

“Did you remember the extra bacon?” Duo asks, leaning over Quatre’s shoulder. Quatre waves him away and Duo flops onto the end of his bed with a wide yawn.

“Clean-up,” Heero replies. “Relena’s supposed to make a statement later this morning.”

“Ah.”

Quatre joins them, sitting next to Duo on the bed. “Food should be here in twenty minutes,” he announces. He bites his bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen. “Do you think this is the end of it?”

“Of what?” Duo asks.

“People wanting to start meaningless wars?”

Duo shrugs and Heero shakes his head. “It wasn’t meaningless, Quatre,” he says quietly. “The people fought for peace, maybe they’ll remember to keep it this time.”

“Wouldn’t that make our lives easier?” Duo snorts, shaking his head. “Nah, we’ve never had that kind of luck.”


	5. Chapter 5

They split up after breakfast.

Duo, Quatre, and Trowa make their way to the warehouses the Maganacs commandeered to check on their Gundams. Heero makes his way to Preventers HQ, silently cursing the crowded trams. He feels on edge from a combination of excess adrenaline, lack of sleep, and bodies pressed close together. His is the fifth stop and he gratefully climbs down from the tram to walk the additional block to the office.

The headquarters for Preventers is set up in the center of Brussels. There’s a light dusting of snow covering the modern lines of the building and the windows are large and tinted against the casual viewer. Heero takes the stairs up to the front door two at a time and steps through the automatic doors into the main lobby.

He’s visited Preventers once before, when Lady Une had first tried to get him to join the team. He remembers sitting in her office, listening to her pitch about how his skillset would be a benefit to the security of the ESUN. At the end she had looked at him, asked what his thoughts were. “I don’t work well with others,” he had responded. He’d stood and shrugged into his jacket. “You should ask one of the others.”

“Duo’s already agreed to contract work,” she had responded. “Quatre is considering it. No one seems to know where Trowa’s disappeared to. Or Wufei.”

Heero had doubted that. Quatre would have had an idea on where Trowa was; he hadn’t made it a secret that he’d planned to go back to Catherine. Wufei, well, that was a little more believable. Wufei liked playing things close to the chest. He hadn’t said any of that though. He’d just shrugged and headed for the door. “What will you do, now that there’s no war?” Lady Une had questioned.

“Guess we’ll find out,” he’d responded. He’d opened her door and brushed past the too-young secretary.

Now, Lady Une’s secretary looks up as he approaches her desk. It’s decked out for the holiday season, a string of colored lights hanging across the front of it and a glittery Christmas tree perched precariously on the corner. She still looks too young, but there’s a hardness around her mouth that he doesn’t remember from his last visit. “Lady Une is not available today,” she states. She pauses and he can see her trying to remember who he is. “How did you get past security?”

“I’m looking for Noin,” he replies, ignoring her question. “Or Zechs.”

Her eyes narrow and she taps a pen on her desk. “Preventers Fire and Wind are busy at the moment. In case you haven’t seen the news-”

“Tell them Heero Yuy is here, they’ll make time.”

She blows out a frustrated breath, her bangs momentarily lifting from the force of the expulsion. “ _Fine_. If you can take a seat, Mr. Yuy, I’ll page Preventer Fire.”

“I don’t mind waiting here.” She gives him a glare that could rival Wufei’s. She grabs the phone and angrily punches a couple of numbers in. He waits, mentally cataloging the information on the reports sitting on her desk.

“Preventer Fire, I’m sorry for interrupting. This is Zoe…no, no, Lady Une is still at the hospital. I have a visitor demanding to see you. A Mr. Yuy?” Her eyes lift, narrow at him suspiciously. “Oh, yes, yes I’ll tell him. Okay.” She hangs up the phone and plasters on a false smile. “Preventer Fire is on her way. She asked that you wait for her here.”

“Sure,” he replies easily. He takes a seat in the waiting area and listens to the hustle and bustle of office work. He can hear muted conversations behind doors, stomping boots hurrying to-and-fro, the exhausted drag of agents who have been up long past their shifts. He glances at the secretary again, wonders if she’s been here all night like the rest.

“Heero.” He looks up to find Noin leaning against the open doorway, a tired smile on her face.

“Noin,” he greets. He gets up and joins her.

“Sally said you’d flown the coop last night,” she states. “Come on, we can talk in my office.”

\--

Noin’s office is moderately sized and shared with two other desks, though neither owner is present. She takes a seat at one of the desks and gestures for him to pull up a chair. He sits down across from her desk and she sighs, rubs her temples and finger combs her hair.

“I take it this isn’t a social call?”

“No,” he agrees.

She nods, pulls out a wrapped muffin from her desk drawer. “You don’t mind, do you? I haven’t had a chance to eat yet.” He shakes his head and she removes the wrapper carefully. “Wufei, Relena, or Zero?” she asks.

He settles back in the chair, mindful of the injury on his shoulder. “Let’s just go in that order,” he says. He catches a quick smile before she bites into the muffin. “Wufei, is he being charged?”

She mirrors his position, studies him quietly. “Officially, I shouldn’t be telling you anything. Unofficially, no. We have to keep him for more questioning, maintain appearances and all. But Une doesn’t intend to charge him. We’re just keeping him secure until the frenzy dies down.” She pauses, fiddles with the muffin wrapper. “Sally wants to recruit him still.”

“Une’ll trust him after all this?”

“He did help put a stop to it,” Noin replies. “Think he’ll agree?”

Heero mulls it over. “He’s looking for a purpose,” he says finally. Noin nods, looks satisfied as she takes another bite. “Relena?”

“Miss Relena is fine,” Noin replies. “Sally ran a full work-up on her at Zechs’s insistence. I don’t think she even has a scratch on her.” Noin’s eyes flick over Heero. “I hear you weren’t so lucky.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I remember.” She sits up straighter, fidgets with a thin chain around her neck. “Zechs probably won’t ever say it, but he’s grateful for what you did out there.” Heero shrugs, crosses his arms over his chest. Noin sighs, smiles. “Which brings us to Zero. There’s not much I can do about it at the moment. It’s part of the crime scene.”

“I don’t want it being rebuilt, Noin.”

“I understand. It still has to be documented though, photographed. It’s a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit.”

“When do you expect them to be finished with it?”

She tilts her head curiously, but she doesn’t ask. “A day or two. Lady Une’s orders are to have the scene cleared by New Year’s.”

He nods. “You’ll let me know when it’s cleared?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if Preventers will give it back to you.” He shrugs, standing slowly, and she sighs. “Which wouldn’t stop you anyway. It was good to see you, Heero.”

He nods, looking uncomfortable. “You too, Noin.”

“Tell the others hello for me,” she adds. He’s at the door when she calls out to him again. “Heero, Relena’s staying at the Hotel Amigo.”

\--

Relena’s press conference is scheduled for noon in one of the conference rooms at the Hotel Amigo.

Heero shows up at eleven. He moves quietly through the hotel, picking up a discarded Preventers jacket and hat from the lobby while its owner is arguing with a server. He pulls it on over his own jacket, zips it up to hide his tank top. He angles the hat low over his forehead. Conveniently the ID badge is in the jacket’s pocket.

The concierge looks up as he approaches. “I’m here to check on the Vice Foreign Minister,” he states. He flashes the badge and the concierge purses his lips before nodding.

“You’ll want the Magritte suite on the third floor,” he states.

“Thanks,” Heero replies. He turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He can hear the Preventer loudly looking for his jacket.

When he reaches the third floor he’s surprised to see it’s empty of Preventers agents. He frowns, makes his way to the Rene Magritte suite. He can hear voices on the other side of the door. He knocks loudly on the door, listens as the conversation abruptly cuts off.

“Who is it?” a male voice questions.

“Heero.”

Zechs opens the door, eyebrows raising as he takes in Heero’s appearance. “This is a surprise.”

“I saw Noin.” Zechs’s eyebrows climb higher, disappearing under his blonde bangs.

“I know, she called.” He’s still blocking the doorway. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here now.”

Heero glances around the empty hallway and elevator bay. “Your security is lacking,” he states.

Zechs’s lip curls into something close to a smile. “They’re all useless. More interested in getting a look at her than in protecting her.”

“Who is it, Milliardo?” Relena calls. Zechs steps aside, gesturing for Heero to enter. Heero sees her ocean-colored eyes widen in surprise. “Heero!” Suddenly he has an armful of Vice Foreign Minister and he stumbles under her sudden and enthusiastic greeting. “Oh! I’m sorry. Here, come in, come in. Do you want something to drink? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

“Is that Leon’s jacket?” Zechs asks. Heero shrugs; he hadn’t paid attention to the name on the ID badge. “He’s been causing a scene downstairs looking for it.”

“He should be more careful with his things.” He removes the hat and jacket, setting them on a chair. He keeps the ID badge in his jeans pocket.

Zechs eyes them critically before nodding. “I’ll take these back to him while you two talk.” He grabs the clothing, pauses to clasp Heero’s shoulder briefly, and disappears out the door.

“Sit,” Relena orders. Heero raises an eyebrow but takes a seat on the sofa. She sits down next to him, angled so that she can watch him easily. He runs a hand over the deep red brocade of the sofa cushions. It reminds him of fresh blood. “How are you?”

“Fine.” She stares at him and he rolls his eyes. “Sally released me.”

“Good.” She nods, brushes her hair back from her face. “You didn’t look too well last night, and that was before you passed out.” He shrugs and studies her. Her face is pale and tired, more tired than he’s seen it this past year. “Don’t tell me you’re here to kill me?” She quirks an eyebrow and offers him a small smile.

“No, you survived a crashing Gundam, I think I can let you live.” She laughs and lets her head rest against the back of the sofa, watches him from behind the fall of her blonde bangs. “Are you okay?”

“Is that _concern_ , Heero? You must have hit your head last night.” He snorts, crosses his arms. “I’m alright. They want a press conference in an hour. I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs, rests his feet on the coffee table. “The truth?”

Her laugh is quiet, bitter. It sounds too jaded for her. “This is politics, there’s no truth in politics.”

He frowns, hesitates, and then reaches out to touch her arm. “Relena.” She looks at him curiously and he withdraws his hand, twists to face her. “The people trust you because you don’t lie to them. Don’t start now.”

“Is peace fruitless, Heero?”

He’s quiet, thinking it over. “There’s always going to be someone who wants power. But the world proved something last night. They _want_ peace, Relena. They’re tired of fighting. You helped make that happen.”

Her smile is brighter, more like the girl he’d met at Saint Gabriel’s during the war. “We all did,” she murmurs. She rubs at her temples. “Are you disappearing again?”

He shrugs “Not much use for a soldier without a war.”

“I’m sure we could use you on security detail.” He snorts, shakes his head at her. “I didn’t think you’d go for it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Well, someone had a busy day,” Duo comments as he enters the hotel room. Heero doesn’t bother to look up from the laptop he’s working on. “Where’d you get the laptop?”

“Store.”

Quatre sighs, following Trowa in and dropping a number of bags on Duo’s bed. “Rashid and Auda went shopping for us,” he says to Heero’s raised eyebrows. He grabs one of the bags. “I’m taking a shower; you guys decide what you want to do for dinner.”

Trowa takes a seat next to Heero at the table, covertly trying to read the screen. “Did you take your antibiotics?”

“Yes, Dr. Barton,” he grumbles. He angles the laptop so Trowa doesn’t have to crane as much to see. “What are you doing?” he asks Duo.

Duo shrugs as he dumps the contents of the bags out on the bed. “Sorting, while you two do whatever over there.” He waves a hand toward the laptop.

Trowa makes a hming sound and scrolls down the page. He doesn’t ask how Heero hacked into the Preventers database. He’d like some plausible deniability when Lady Une pulls him in for questioning. Heero quietly watches Duo work for a few minutes.

“Why did Rashid and…Auda,” he pauses, waits for Duo to confirm the names. Duo nods. “Why did they go shopping for us?”

“’Cause we’re stuck here in the same clothes. They didn’t want _Master Quatre_ to brave the holiday shoppers and press. In case he got recognized. We gave them our sizes and off they went.” Duo holds up a black button down. “It’s not bad, actually. They have pretty good taste.”

“Uh huh,” Heero replies. He catches the bundle of clothes Duo tosses to him.

“We were worried at first about getting you anything, but Trowa said he knew your size.” Duo’s staring at them like he’s waiting for an explanation.

Heero checks the clothes, reading the size tags on the shirts and jeans, on the package of underwear. He raises his eyebrow at that one before shrugging. “He was right,” he says.

Duo shakes his head; holds up a pair of jeans that are too long and immediately set to the side. “It was weird, have you ever met the Maganacs?”

“No,” Heero replies.

“They’re nice enough, but well.” Duo pauses to shrug at them. “I guess it really just cements the fact Quatre grew up different.” He returns to sorting clothes.

“It makes you realize what he gave up to fight,” Heero agrees.

Duo shrugs again, picks at a loose thread on one of the shirts. “Yeah, I guess.”

Trowa pushes the laptop back to Heero and settles more comfortably against the back of the dining booth. “You aren’t thinking of--”

“I don’t see why not,” he replies with a shrug.

Duo waves a hand at them. “Hello, subtitles please?” He sets Trowa’s new clothes on the other bed and waits expectantly. “What’s Heero’s death plan this time?”

“It’s not a death plan,” Heero retorts as the bathroom door opens. Quatre exits, wet hair curling against his temples.

“What about death plans?” he asks. “You were supposed to be choosing dinner.”

“There is no _death plan_ ,” Heero replies. “I wanted to hack Preventers to see how they operated.” He sees Trowa raise his eyebrows out of the corner of his eye and steadfastly ignores him.

Duo nods slowly. “Not bad, I do contract work for them, you know. Are you thinking of joining?”

“I just want to see how they didn’t notice Dekim’s plans sooner.”

“Probably the same reason none of _us_ noticed either,” Quatre states. He pulls a vest on over his button down shirt. “We were too complacent and didn’t expect a new conflict so soon. So, have we decided on dinner?”

“I could kill for some pasta,” Duo announces. He frowns at Quatre’s look. “What, too soon?”

\--

Duo and Quatre spend twenty minutes arguing over whether dinner should be ordered-in or dine-out. It ends with Quatre acquiescing on the condition that they all _freshen up_ and don’t draw too much attention to themselves while they are out. Heero had frowned at the pointed look Quatre had shot the faint bloodstains still visible on his jeans.

(“It’s not like anyone _really_ saw us, Quat,” Duo had protested.

Quatre had narrowed his eyes at that. “We don’t know that, Duo. There were hundreds of cameras at the Presidential House. We agreed on anonymity, remember?”)

Trowa’s glad that Duo managed to convince Quatre to go out. The hotel room feels too confining, the small table too crowded when they’re all seated around it. He shoves his hands into his pockets as they walk the few blocks to the restaurant the concierge had recommended. The clouds are dark overhead, threatening more snow and the wind is cold on his face.

“You’ve been quiet today, Trowa,” Quatre notes. “Everything okay?”

Trowa shrugs, seeing the sign for the restaurant ahead. Duo spots it at the same time, lets out an excited _whoop_ and increases his pace. “It’s fine, Quatre.” Heero shouts something as Duo darts nimbly across the street, neatly dodging the traffic.

“If you’re worried about the plan I mentioned earlier, it’s okay. The Maganacs still need a few days to finalize transportation and I can always tell Rashid not to include Heavyarms.”

“No, your plan is sound,” Trowa replies.

“Then what is it?” Quatre presses. “You’re quieter than usual.”

They cross the street and enter the restaurant. It’s warm and lively. Trowa can see Heero’s shoulders tense immediately while Duo chats with the hostess in broken French (“ _Une table pour quatre personnes, s'il vous pla_ _ît_ ,” Heero interrupts Duo. “ _Et un serveur qui parlez anglais si possible_.” The hostess gives a bright smile and an energetic “ _Oui, bien sûr monsieur”_ in response). Quatre is still staring at him and he gives him a small, quick smile. “I’m just tired today.”

Quatre nods emphatically. “I understand completely. This is the worst jetlag I’ve experienced.”


	7. Chapter 7

Heero still feels itchy with adrenaline, doesn’t like the crowded restaurant or the occasional crashes coming from the kitchen. He takes the end seat of the booth, back to the busy kitchen and watches the main points of entry. Trowa had taken the seat across from him quietly, eyes watching the kitchen commotion and side entrances. His fingers run over the knife in front of him.

Quatre is also quiet, next to Trowa. He still looks tired and Heero wonders how much sleep he’d gotten on the flight to-and-from Venus. In sharp contrast, Duo is a bundle of loosely contained chaos next to Heero. He taps his fingers against the tabletop, bounces his knees under the table, flips aimlessly through the menu, and darts his eyes around his surroundings every 25 seconds. Heero contemplates stabbing him no less than three times before their server arrives.

Their server is a few years older, most likely a university student, and (as the hostess had promised) she speaks English. She gives them a bright smile as she introduces herself as Mila and takes their drink orders. Duo flashes her a bright smile in return, winking when he gives her the order and grinning as she laughs.

“On the outs with Hilde?” Heero asks idly after the waitress has left.

“You remember Hilde?” Duo asks.

“She brought us the schematics for Libra,” Heero replies.

Duo rolls his eyes, flips a page in the menu. “Of course you remember _that_. Hilde’s cool, she’s back at the salvage yard. We’re cool, just friends, you know?”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I am not; it’s just hot in here.” Duo looks around the table for support. Trowa has his head ducked, busy perusing his own menu. Quatre gives him a sympathetic smile. “Whatever, guys. Real helpful.” He turns to Heero again. “What about you and Relena, huh?”

Heero leans back into the bench seat, feels his gun holster press against the small of his back from the angle, and watches the group of men entering the restaurant. Judging by the fall of the front one’s trousers, he has a holster strapped to his ankle. The men shrug off their coats, reveal the Preventer uniform underneath. He taps his finger against the edge of the menu as Mila appears with a tray filled with their drinks and another bright smile.

“What about Relena?” he asks after Mila departs to give them a few more minutes with the menus.

“Well, she was pretty into you last year. You showed up when she got abducted. But you aren’t up in her ivory tower guarding her.”

They all look up as Trowa snorts into the glass he’s drinking from. Duo smirks, turning back to Heero expectantly.

“She’s not in a tower--”

“That’s not the point--”

“And Zechs is with her. I saw her this morning.”

“You did?” Quatre asks. He looks up from his menu, finger marking his place. “How is she?”

Heero shrugs. “She seems alright.” They pause as Mila reappears, smile firmly in place. They give her their orders absently and she frowns a bit at the change, smile dimming when Duo doesn’t return it with the same enthusiasm as earlier. “Sally cleared her last night,” he adds after the waitress moves on to the Preventer table further down.

“Yeah?” Duo questions. He toys with the end of his braid until Heero glares. “Girl’s about as lucky as you are, to escape without anything serious.”

Heero shrugs and reaches for his glass of water. “She’s stronger than most expect,” he states.

“Did you see anyone else?” Quatre asks.

Heero’s quiet for a moment, takes a drink. “Noin,” he replies. “Wufei’s still being detained for questioning.”

“Did she say if they were charging him?” Quatre asks, brow furrowed in concern.

“I don’t think they will, she seems to think that they’ll get him to sign on,” Heero replies. “But they need to put on a show for the media in the meantime.”

“The media doesn’t know who he is, what does that have to do with anything?” Duo questions. He kicks Trowa under the table. “You’re quiet over there, what do you think?”

“You’re the one that works with them,” Trowa replies, “shouldn’t you have a better idea?”

“Wufei, a Preventer?” Quatre muses. He sips his drink, eyebrows pulled together as he imagines it. He shakes his head after a moment. “I can’t picture it. He’s a good teammate, but too self-reliant.”

They fall silent again as Mila appears, a tray filled with plates full of pasta and a basket of bread balanced in her hands. “You don’t have to stop talking whenever I come over,” she tells them brightly. She sets the bread in the middle of the table and begins to pass out the dishes. “I know it’s not really my business, but are you Agents, like them?” she asks, inclining her head in the direction of the Preventers group.

Duo smiles at her. “Sure are,” he replies.

“Were you involved in what happened yesterday?” Mila asks, eyes bright. She sets down the last of the dishes but doesn’t immediately disappear.

“You could say that, yeah,” he agrees. Heero stares at him through narrowed eyes but Duo ignores him. “Got the day off to recoup, but back at it tomorrow.”

“Well, I just wanted to say thank you,” Mila replies. “My father was one of the men that went in to watch. He said it was quite a sight.”

Quatre shakes his head, foot connecting with Duo’s shin when it looks like he’s about to say something else. “We were only involved peripherally,” Quatre tells her. “Really, we didn’t have much to do with it at all.”

“You still helped,” she states, “that’s what matters.” She gives them another bright smile. “Eat, before it gets cold.”

Trowa turns to Duo once Mila has disappeared back into the kitchen. “What happened to _not drawing attention_ to ourselves?”

“What, it’s nice to be appreciated once in a while, isn’t it?”

\--

“What is it?” Trowa asks quietly as they walk back to the hotel. Heero turns to him, head tilted in question. “You’re on edge.”

“I don’t know,” Heero admits. He slows slightly and Trowa matches his pace, lets Quatre and Duo pull ahead without realizing it.

“Should you see Sally again?”

“I’m not injured,” Heero replies, voice sharper than he’d meant. He runs a hand through his hair and kicks at a snowdrift. Quatre and Duo cross the street but he and Trowa get stopped by the changing pedestrian light. “And I don’t want Sally prescribing any drugs.”

“Fair enough,” Trowa agrees. They’re quiet, watching the stream of traffic and the glittering holiday lights on the buildings. “You’re worried,” Trowa states after a moment. He leans back on his heels, looks up at the cloud covered sky. “You’re second guessing this plan of yours.”

“What would you have me do instead?”

“Are you sure remotely detonating Zero is the right thing to do?” The light changes and they fall into step as they cross the street. “Have you talked with Une?” Heero snorts loud enough to be heard over the idling engines. “She seems better than when we worked for her.”

Heero rolls his shoulders, feels the bandage tape pull at his skin. “ _You_ worked for her, I was a prisoner of war, remember?” He catches Trowa’s quiet smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Do you really think she’s changed that much since the war?”

Trowa shrugs. “I never had problems balancing her quirks.”

“Well, some of us aren’t that talented,” Heero retorts. There isn’t any bite and his mouth is curling into a smile, so Trowa allows a small laugh in return.

“Pity,” he replies drily. He ignores the glare Heero shoots him. “I don’t think she would rebuild Zero,” he says finally. They’re catching up to Duo and Quatre who are waiting outside the hotel, watching them approach. He ducks his head, hides his face behind the fall of his hair so Duo can’t read his lips. “She was one of the ones who wanted Wing destroyed, remember?” Heero nods. “Blowing up Zero at a disaster site could be viewed as an act of aggression.”

“Or a dramatic way to announce peace,” Heero counters, his own face tilted down. Trowa makes a humming noise in response.

“We waited to make sure you didn’t get lost,” Quatre explains as they join their fellow pilots.

“What took you guys so long?” Duo demands. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I told you to wear a coat,” Quatre replies, voice muffled by his scarf and the high collar of his own warm coat.

“I wouldn’t _need_ a coat if these two could keep up.” His words are teasing, but Heero can feel his eyes studying them both intently.

“Got caught by the traffic light,” Heero replies. He returns the look Duo is giving him and Duo shrugs a shoulder.

“Yeah, okay, come on before I get frostbite.”

“It’s not _that_ cold,” Quatre protests, opening the lobby door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing everyone a happy and healthy new year. Stay safe out there, folks!

Trowa corners Heero in the bathroom when he’s brushing his teeth with one of the toothbrushes included with their new clothes. Heero raises his eyebrows as Trowa slips in, closing the door behind him. They lower into a resigned frown when he sees Trowa set Sally’s bag on the counter.

He spits into the sink, rinses his mouth with tap water. “This is getting repetitive,” he states.

“Sorry, were you expecting something else?” Trowa asks. Heero catches the curl of a smile in the mirror and rolls his eyes.

“How do you want me?” He watches Trowa while he rinses the toothbrush and stores it in the plastic travel tube.

“This is fine to start with,” Trowa replies.

“Meant to ask, did you have a hand in the selection?” Heero questions as he unbuttons the shirt he’s wearing.

“I suggested buttons, yes. They were easier for you in Europe.” Heero nods, shrugs the shirt off and Trowa removes the bandage, head bent to examine the burn, breath soft against his shoulder. “Good news, it doesn’t look infected. How’s your range of movement?”

“Feels like it pulls,” Heero replies. “I’m not sure if that’s the burn or the bandage though.” He feels Trowa’s fingers smearing the antibiotic cream along the edges of the burn.

“Could be the bandage. I’d leave it off but you toss and turn too much.”

“Too much noise,” Heero replies.

Trowa shakes his head, recaps the cream and sets it on the counter. They’re quiet as Trowa recovers the burn with a fresh piece of gauze and tapes it in place. Heero watches as Trowa’s hands reach around him, press lightly against the black-purple-blues covering his ribcage. He lifts his arms to give Trowa better access. Trowa makes a humming sound in the back of his throat in response.

“The bruising isn’t pretty,” Trowa murmurs, fingers skating over the bruises mottling Heero’s pale skin. “But the ice last night seems to have reduced the swelling. Do you want more tonight?” Heero shakes his head and Trowa nods, rests his hands on either side of Heero’s chest, fingers splayed along each side of his ribcage. “Take a deep breath.”

Heero rolls his eyes but breathes in deeply. Trowa adjusts his hands and repeats the directive. Heero breathes in again and Trowa nods, stepping back. “All good?” Heero asks.

“Your breathing doesn’t seem impaired any. I couldn’t feel any complete breaks.”

“I’ve behaved.”

“Surprisingly.” Trowa tugs at one of the belt loops on Heero’s jeans. “Let me see your leg. I want to make sure the stitches are holding.” Heero undoes his jeans, letting them drop. Trowa kneels to help guide the material over the bandage.

“How did it go with the Gundams?”

Trowa hums as he peels away the bandage. “Quatre’s suggested taking them somewhere uninhabited and detonating them,” he replies. “Can you bend your leg? I need better light.” Heero shifts, letting Trowa manipulate his left leg as needed.

“Are you going to?”

“We didn’t last a year without a new threat requiring the Gundams. What makes us think next year won’t be the same?” he asks quietly.

Heero rests his forearms on the counter, bends his head to study the patterns in the stone. He can feel Trowa reapplying a new bandage. There’s a burst of noise in the next room as Quatre or Duo turn on the television before the volume is quickly lowered. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Is that why you’re against my plan?”

“That and I think it’s asking for trouble. You can redress.” Trowa releases his leg and Heero looks up to see Trowa standing behind him again. He sighs, turning to face him, not bothering to pull his clothes back on. “How was Relena?”

“She…” he trails off at Trowa’s stare. It’s the one that he used during the war when he wasn’t buying Heero’s bullshit about his arm being alright. “She’s doubting her beliefs.”

Trowa frowns, confused. “But the people upheld her beliefs. They demanded peace.”

“I told her that,” Heero replies. He leans against the counter and stares at the garden painting behind Trowa’s shoulder. “She’s disillusioned with politics.”

“Did she ask you to stay?” Heero looks up and Trowa chuckles. “You just saved her life. Again,” he reminds Heero. “It makes sense she’d want you nearby in case someone goes after her again.”

“She knew I’d say no.” Heero shifts, listens to Duo and Quatre moving around in the next room, the muffled sounds of the television set. “She did ask that I keep in touch this time.”

Trowa smirks and Heero knows he’s remembering Antarctica. “She’s resourceful; she’d track you down if you didn’t.”

“I know,” he agrees.

“What will you do? If this is really peace, what now?”

Heero looks at him but Trowa is focused on repacking the bag and throwing away the used bandages. “I haven’t decided yet.” He bends, grabs his new jeans and picks up the shirt from the counter. Trowa raises an eyebrow when he simply bundles them under one arm. “No use getting dressed just to take it all off again to go to bed.”

“Of course not,” Trowa replies, and there’s a smile hovering around his mouth when he says it.

\--

Duo has some action movie on when they enter the bedroom again. Quatre is passed out in his bed, snoring once more. Trowa wonders if Heero will give in and actually smother Quatre in his sleep tonight. Heero drops his clothes on the table and climbs into bed. Trowa places Sally’s bag on the table by his bed and grabs his own toothbrush, disappearing back into the bathroom. Heero can feel Duo watching him and he sighs.

“What?” he asks. He turns to look at the other bed.

Duo shrugs. “It’s just surprising to see you willingly accept help,” he says finally. Heero frowns and Duo shakes his head. “I tried to help you and first you tried to kill yourself, then you stole parts from Deathscythe to fix the Gundam _you_ torpedoed.”

“I didn’t know you,” Heero replies. They’re quiet as the pipes groan and the shower starts up.

“And now?” Duo asks, eyebrows raised. “If I had told you to go to the hospital, would you have? What about Quatre, would you do what Quatre told you?” Heero’s frown deepens and Duo shrugs again. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, Heero. It’s actually nice knowing you’ll listen to _someone_.”

Heero shakes his head and turns his attention back to the TV screen. Duo lets out a breath and twists to face the other bed. “Look, you okay, Buddy?” Heero glances at him, eyebrow raised questioningly. “I might be joking about you listening to someone, but you _are_ , which isn’t usual. So, I gotta ask. Everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Duo.” Heero stares at him. “Trowa mentioned Quatre’s plan.”

“About detonating the Gundams?” Duo replies. He fiddles with the end of his braid.

“Yeah. What are your thoughts on it?”

Duo shrugs and rolls his shoulders. “Honestly? I dunno, man.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Sometimes I feel like we’re just courting trouble, keeping them around.”

“We didn’t have them a month ago,” Heero points out.

“And look where that got us,” Duo replies. He glances over at Quatre and they’re quiet, listening to the blonde’s snores. “Quatre thinks it’ll work. I don’t know if he’s crazy or a genius. What’re your thoughts? Going to detonate Zero?”

“If I can get Zero away from Preventers,” Heero grumbles. He settles back against the pillows and studies the television screen. “You saw the civilians at the bunker, how were they? Think they actually want peace?”

“Maybe, they seemed sincere,” Duo replies. “But hey, we thought they were ready for it before, huh?”

Trowa chooses that moment to exit the bathroom, crossing the room lightly to climb into bed next to Heero. “What’re are you watching?” he questions as the woman on screen gets her throat slit suddenly.

Heero turns back to the movie with a shrug and Duo sighs. He tosses Heero the remote, not surprised when he catches it mid-air. “I’m crashing; you can finish it or shut it off or whatever. Quat mentioned going back to the warehouses tomorrow morning if you want to join.”

Heero flicks through channels until he comes to an all-night news station. He turns it to mute and watches scenes of the attempted coup cross the screen. Duo is quiet in his bed, breathing deep and slow. Heero envies his ability to drop to sleep so easily. He turns his attention back to the scrolling newsfeed.

It’s the same, repeated images that have graced the screen for the past couple of days. Shots of the presidential bunker before-and-after the crash, clips of Relena walking from the wreckage mixed with clips of Relena giving speeches, and interspersed throughout are photographs of Dekim and Mariemaia. There’s an aerial shot of Zero, mostly obscured by the debris and tarps the Preventers have secured around it.

Trowa reaches over, prying the remote from his hand and turning the TV off. The room plunges into darkness except for a strip of light from where the curtains don’t overlap properly. “Go to sleep,” he mumbles.

Heero sighs, rolls over onto his stomach and settles into the bed. Trowa shifts next to him and Heero counts heartbeats, listens to footsteps overhead. He jumps when he feels fingers in his hair, arm half poised for a counter attack before he realizes. The fingers move slowly, pressing in small circles against his scalp. “This usually helps Leo calm down.”

“I’m not a lion, Trowa,” Heero growls. Trowa huffs a laugh, the breath minty fresh against his neck.

“Just close your eyes. You need to sleep.”

“ _Trowa--_ ”

“And stop talking.”

The fingers do feel nice against his scalp, especially when Trowa’s short nails scrape a little. He closes his eyes, burrows his face in the pillow. Even if it doesn’t work, he’ll humor Trowa for a few minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

Heero is sitting up in bed and working on the laptop when Trowa wakes up. He yawns, stretches, listens to the shower running. Lifting his head he establishes that Quatre’s bed is empty while Duo is star-fished across his, drooling into a pillow.

“What are you doing?” Trowa murmurs. He shifts so he’s sitting next to Heero, shoulders pressed together.

“Apparently they tried to move Zero and part of the bunker collapsed,” Heero states. He types in a few more commands and frowns. “Une wants them to restabilize it and try another extraction.”

“Maybe you won’t have to do anything after all,” Trowa replies. Heero shrugs, attention focused on the screen in front of him. “Do you think they’ll be able to extract it?”

“Eventually.” Heero slides the laptop over to Trowa and he raises an eyebrow in surprise. “It’s secure, if you want to call Catherine.”

“Thank you.” He settles the laptop on his own lap and types the number into the communication tab Heero left open. It rings twice before Cathy’s face fills up the screen. “Hi, Cathy.”

“Trowa, thank _God_ ,” Cathy exclaims. Her eyes are shining on the screen and Trowa isn’t sure if it’s repressed tears or the glare of the screen on her end. “I’ve been so worried, why haven’t you called earlier?”

“Been busy. It’s okay, Cathy.” She sits back in her chair and lifts a mug to her mouth. He knows it’s peppermint tea, she always drinks peppermint when she’s stressed.

“Where are you?” she asks.

“Brussels. Preventers has us in a hotel while they work on the clean-up.”

“How long will you be there? How’s Heero? It was him that crashed, wasn’t it?” Heero raises his eyebrows in surprise and Trowa smirks.

“See for yourself.” He angles the laptop screen so Heero’s in frame.

“Hello, Catherine,” Heero replies stiffly. He leans against the pillows, presses his shoulder tighter to Trowa’s so they’re both in frame. “I thought you were still upset with me?”

She snorts and brushes the curls out of her face. “No, I’ve learned Trowa makes his own stubborn decisions. You look well, no coma this time?”

He chuckles in spite of himself. “I’d hate to be predictable,” he replies. Catherine grins at him through the screen. The shower shuts off and Heero glances over as Duo shifts in the next bed.

“How long will you be…staying in Brussels?”

Trowa shrugs. “Until Lady Une decides to let us go. I don’t imagine it’ll be too much longer, maybe after the new year.”

She lets out a breath and rests her chin on her hand. “I guess you’ll be cutting off soon, huh?” Catherine asks. “You will be coming back to the circus, right?”

Trowa nods and there’s a fond smile on his face. “Yeah, Cathy. As soon as possible. Send me the schedule?”

“Okay, I will. I’ll tell the cats you say hello. Take care of yourself – both of you.” She gives them a hard look.

“We always do,” Trowa replies. He disconnects before she can say anything disparaging and shuts down the connection. Heero takes the laptop back, shutting it down completely as Duo sits up, yawning loudly. “Thank you,” he murmurs again.

“Morning,” Duo rasps. “Did someone order breakfast? I thought I heard voices.”

“Must’ve been dreaming,” Trowa replies.

Duo scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, I guess so. Where’s Quatre?”

“Shower,” Heero replies. He gets up to set the laptop on the table and dress.

Duo yawns and stretches. “Cool, can we order breakfast or do we have to wait?” Trowa tosses him the phone and Duo grins. “Awesome, extra bacon time.”

\--

“Duo, you don’t need that much bacon,” Quatre protests.

“Don’t speak sacrilege, Quatre,” Duo replies, stuffing two more pieces in his mouth. Heero snorts, idly eating his toast as he skims the newspaper that room service brought up with their trays.

Quatre opens his mouth to protest when there’s a sharp knock on the door. They fall silent as Trowa glances through the peephole, wary stance relaxing. “It’s fine,” he states, opening the door. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Have to try to keep you all on your toes somehow, don’t I?” Noin replies. “Can I come in?” Trowa gives a perfunctory nod, stepping aside so she can enter.

Quatre smiles brightly when he sees her. “Miss Noin!” he greets. “It’s been too long. How are you?”

“As well as can be, given the circumstances. And please, just Noin, Quatre.”

“Of course,” Quatre replies. “Would you like any tea or coffee? I don’t think we have bacon left, but there’s fruit and toast.”

“Thank you for the offer but I’ve had too much caffeine this morning as it is.”

“Not a social call, I take it?” Heero asks, eyeing the Preventers-issued jacket she’s wearing.

She gives them a tired but friendly smile. “Afraid not. Time to give your statements, officially,” she replies.

“That took a while,” Trowa comments. She glances sharply at where he’s leaning against the wall behind her. He raises an eyebrow at her and she shakes her head.

“We’ve been a bit short-staffed,” she replies. “Lady Une assumed you’d understand, given the circumstances.”

“Yeah, I’d imagine so,” Duo says. He busies himself pulling on his coat. “We gonna see Wufei?”

“After your statements,” she replies. Her face softens as she looks at them. “He’s fine; he took great joy in insulting the younger agents.”

Heero snorts, shrugging into his jacket with little difficulty and discreetly checking that the holster is in place. “Did they deserve it?”

“From what I heard, they were breathing too loud while he was meditating.”

Duo cackles, shoulders relaxing. “That sounds like him,” he replies. “Alright, let’s get this over with, yeah?”


	10. Chapter 10

They’re escorted to the third floor of Preventers where they meet up with Sally outside the elevators. She smiles at them brightly. “It’s good to see all of you again.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been stuck with Wufei for two days,” Duo replies.

Sally laughs before turning her attention to Heero. “Any problems I should know about?”

“No,” he replies, arms crossed over his chest. Her gaze shifts to Trowa and he shakes his head.

“Glad to hear it,” she replies and looks to Noin. “Will Zechs be joining us?”

“No, Relena is meeting with Dorothy and he wants to be there for it.”

“Dorothy Catalonia?” Quatre asks, surprised.

“She was the one who brought the citizens to the battle and Relena wants to talk to her.” She shrugs. “Zechs doesn’t trust her.”

“So, Zechs is really a Preventer now?” Duo questions. He shakes his head. “Man, I really thought he was dead.” Quatre elbows him in the ribs.

Noin frowns, but Sally responds before she can. “We’re just thankful he was on our side. It could’ve gone badly without him and, of course, you all.” She looks up at Noin. “Shall we?”

Noin nods and leads them across the hall to a smaller conference room, taking a seat on one side of the oval table. Heero glances around, notes the security cameras in the corner of the room, the bullet-proof glass in the window. He takes a seat at the table and stretches his legs out as the other pilots take their seats around the table. Sally shuts the door and sits down next to Noin, pulls out a tape recorder and sets it in the middle of the table.

“There are cameras, as you’ve already noticed, but they’re down for maintenance currently. This is the only recording device,” Noin informs them.

“For confidentiality we will be referring to you by the pilot numbers OZ assigned to each of you during the Eve Wars,” Sally adds.

“Is this really necessary?” Trowa questions. He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Noin shrugs. “Just following protocol.” She leans forward and presses the record button. “This is Preventer Fire, along with Preventer Water. It is December 29, AC 196. It is 10:05am and we are beginning to interview the pilots of Gundams 01, 02, 03, and 04 on the events of the Barton Foundation Rebellion.”

“This is Preventer Water, why don’t you take us through the events, chronologically?” Sally asks. “State your pilot number before you begin speaking, for the record.”

They all look at each other before Trowa shrugs. “This is 03; I was stationed on L3 X-18999 in early December. It came to my attention that there was something going on.” He pauses, remembers seeing the Barton Foundation members in the meager audience. “I followed a couple of suspicious looking men one night and discovered they were working for the Barton Foundation.”

Noin raises an eyebrow, a small smile in place. “Discovered? How?”

“They were carrying ID cards,” Trowa replies flatly. Noin’s eyebrow inches higher and Duo chuckles at the end of the table. “I decided to go undercover to see what they were up to.”

“How did you find out where they were located?” Sally asks.

“It’s no secret that the Barton Foundation has a stake in the L3 colonies. They weren’t that hard to locate.”

“Or that Dekim Barton was behind the original plan for the Gundams?” Heero asks. Trowa gives him a look out of the corner of his eye.

“Wait, what?” Quatre asks. “I thought--”

“I knew he was gung-ho on following the original Operation Meteor, but he was behind it?” Duo interrupts. He leans around Quatre to study Heero. He grunts as Quatre elbows him back into his seat.

Trowa nods slowly. “He was,” he agrees. “It did help with locating his base of operations, they were recruiting out of the same factory that they built 03 in.”

“So, you made your way to one of these recruiting centers and enlisted?” Sally questions. She gives each of the others a look to keep quiet.

“Yes.”

“And?” Sally prompts.

“And they were planning to go through with Operation Meteor as you know.”

“Did Dekim recognize you?” Quatre asks.

Trowa shifts, feeling five pairs of eyes on him. “Yes,” he says, ignoring Heero’s pointed look. “I hadn’t bothered to change my name when I enlisted and he noticed, of course.” Duo shakes his head at the end of the table. “He needed proof that I was still loyal.”

“What did you do?” Noin asks.

He looks up and sees her watching him, face unreadable. He shrugs. “What I had to. 05 was already a member and shortly after I joined we were moved into a base within X-18999.”

They continue taking turns, relating their moves throughout the Rebellion. Duo takes to exaggerating certain aspects (“Really, he _told_ me to punch him, and what’s the thanks I get? A punch to the gut and taken prisoner.”) while downplaying the more questionable things they had done (“Once you live through a war, a rebellion’s a walk in the park, right?”). Noin takes an interest in Quatre’s retelling of retrieving the Gundams and using the gravity of Venus as a slingshot.

“Once it became obvious what the Barton Foundation were up to there was no question on _not_ getting our Gundams back. The only question was whether we would have time,” Quatre explains. “Using the gravitational force around Venus was a way to make sure that we were light enough and didn’t waste necessary fuel.”

“And you chose to go because…?”

“It was my idea to send them to the sun, it seemed only fair that I go get them.”

“Plus, we were kinda busy getting shot at,” Duo adds. “And _some of us_ were even locked up.”

“You escaped, stop complaining,” Trowa replies. “It’s not like you were there long.”

“Yeah, but I got to miss out on all the fun.”

“And what led to you deciding to drop your Gundam onto the Presidential bunker, 01?” Sally interrupts. “While the Vice Foreign Minister was still a hostage.”

Heero shrugs. “Wasn’t really a choice,” he replies. “The systems were failing from the fire it was taking and the beam cannon was overheating. It was less drop and more crash.”

“What happened once you landed in the bunker?” Noin asks.

Heero hesitates a moment. “Lady Une was already inside with Mariemaia Khushrenada and Relena. Dekim Barton fired at Relena and Mariemaia got in the way. One of the rebels executed Dekim.”

“The kid got in the way? Intentionally?” Duo scoffs. He fiddles with his braid and shakes his head slowly. “You sure about that?”

Heero shrugs. “From where I was it looked that way. She pushed Relena out of the way.”

“Perhaps she saw the error of her ways?” Quatre replies. “She’s only a child, it isn’t hard to imagine that Dekim filled her head with stories.”

“Maybe,” Duo replies, voice still doubtful.

“Prior to the abduction of the Vice Foreign Minister and attempted coup by the Barton Foundation, were any of you in contact with 05?” Noin questions. Sally looks at her sharply but Noin ignores it. “Had you been aware of what he was planning?”

“Nah, he’s more of a lone wolf than 01 is.” Duo pushes back from the table so that his chair is balancing on two legs.

Quatre leans back in his chair and runs his thumb over the buttons on his shirt cuffs. “05 prefers to keep things close to the chest. After the war some of us struggled with peace and purpose. I extended invitations to everyone to visit, but…” Quatre shrugs helplessly. “Sometimes you need to work things out on your own.”

“05 has his own moral code and the Eve Wars challenged that,” Trowa states. “We all went our separate ways.”

“01, there were reports that you fought him directly. How was his mental state?” Noin asks.

“The same as before. He wanted what we all wanted, to make sure that the War wasn’t pointless.” Heero stares at the tabletop. “Would people say enough was enough, or would they fall in line with whichever new power took over?” Heero shakes his head, reaches over and turns the recorder off. “Are we done now?” he asks.

Sally sits back, nodding slowly. “This should satisfy Lady Une.”

“Great,” Duo enthuses. He lets his chair fall back into a normal position with all four legs on the ground. “So, do we get to see Wufei in his prison cell now?”

\--

Noin and Sally call for a break, summoning junior agents to bring refreshments and escort Wufei in before hastily retreating and closing the door behind them. Overall, Wufei doesn’t look bad, considering he’s been in custody for two days now. He’s dressed in a more casual Preventers uniform, one that looks more like a training outfit than an official uniform. He looks at them all evenly.

“It’s about time,” he mutters.

“Good to see you too,” Quatre replies, smiling.

Heero glances over Wufei’s attire, eyebrow raised. “Did you decide to join after all?”

“I’m taking a break from enlisting,” Wufei replies. He sits at one of the empty chairs around the conference table and grabs an orange from the fruit basket the agents brought in. “They bring you in to debrief?”

“Yup,” Duo replies. “How’re they treating you?”

Wufei shrugs. “Better than OZ did.”

“Well, anything’s better than that,” Duo replies. He punches Wufei’s arm, flopping down into the seat next to him. “It’s good to see you again, man.”

Trowa leans against the wall and sips the tea one of the agents had provided. “I hear you were intimidating the junior agents.”

“They’re all morons,” Wufei replies. He has a smile as he says it though and Quatre rolls his eyes. “If I had wanted to I could have escaped three times in the first hour.” He shakes his head sadly.

“And then I would’ve had to track you down,” Sally replies as she enters, carrying a stack of folders. “So thank you for making my job a little easier.” Wufei frowns and she just smiles in return.

Noin follows her in, closing the door behind her. Heero takes his seat again, grabs an apple from the middle of the table. He takes a bite of one as Trowa takes the seat next to him again.

“Now that we’ve finished the official part of this visit, time for the unofficial part,” Noin announces. She fans out the folders, each labeled with a number between 01 and 05. She opens 02 through 05. “Your Gundams.”

“Yeah, what about them?” Duo asks. He slouches lower in his chair, but his shoulders have noticeably stiffened.

“The President of the ESUN has asked Preventers to look into them,” Sally replies.

“They’re of no concern to him,” Wufei replies.

“Well, they’re weapons. Preventers is supposed to monitor weapons.”

“There’s no need for that,” Quatre replies quickly. “We’ve been talking, Duo, Trowa, and me. We’re thinking it might be time to get rid of the Gundams for good.”

Wufei looks up in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re sending them to the sun again.”

“No,” Quatre replies. “We were thinking of self-detonating them.”

The room is silent except for Heero chewing on the apple. “Are you going along with this, Yuy?”

“Zero’s not in the best condition to self-detonate,” Heero replies drily. He glances at Wufei. “It’s already out of commission.”

Wufei shakes his head and frowns at the table. “It seems foolish,” he states.

“Maybe,” Quatre allows. “But as long as they’re around someone will always want to create something stronger.”

“So you’d rather weaken yourself prematurely.”

“What do you mean self-detonate them?” Noin interjects. “When are you planning to do this?”

Duo shrugs and leans back on his chair legs again. “We have to find a good location first. Somewhere away from the general populace, you know?”

Sally looks at each of them. “Do you really think that’s the best option?”

“The whole point of the Gundams was to fight for peace for the colonies. We’ve achieved that,” Duo states. “The Gundams have served their purpose, theoretically.”

Sally leans back in her chair and studies them. “This is your decision,” she says finally. “But if you change your mind…we can offer a facility for you to keep them at secretly.”

Quatre shakes his head slowly. “No, if you did that and someone found out they wouldn’t trust Preventers again.” He glances around at his fellow pilots. “It’s okay; it’ll take some time to pick a location. We do plan on moving them out of Brussels soon though, before anyone gets curious.”

Noin nods. “That would probably be wise. We can at least create a diversion; send Tallgeese and my Taurus on to another base so it isn’t as obvious.”

“Thank you, Miss Noin,” Quatre replies, smiling.

Noin nods, sets the four folders aside and opens the one labeled 01 and skims it. “Heero, we’re having issues with your Gundam.”

“Of course,” Duo mutters. “That thing _never_ makes anything easy.”

“The structure’s too unstable to remove it,” Heero replies, ignoring Duo.

Noin smiles at him. “So Zechs was right, you did hack the database.” He frowns and she laughs. “It was only a suspicion. Agent Leon couldn’t find his ID card.”

“He should be more careful with his things.”

“Don’t worry, Leon’s an ass. I won’t tell him. But you’re right. Zero’s crash severely jeopardized the structure of the bunker. We’ve managed to retrieve the survivors we located, but if we try and move Zero it causes another collapse.”

“Not just of the bunker itself,” Sally adds, rubbing her temples. “The surrounding area is prone to sliding as soon as anything is moved. The recovery team needs to reinforce the walls and different levels before we can begin to remove Zero otherwise it can mean a mess for the city in general.”

He nods and looks at Noin. “I’ll still be notified when it’s freed?”

“I’m sure you’ll know at the same time we do,” she replies, laughter still evident in her eyes. “Though you’d probably know _before_ us if you bothered to sign on.” He crosses his arms, frowns at her. “Still stubborn? Alright.”

“Aside from that, you’re all free to go,” Sally states.

“All of us?” Duo asks. “Even Public Enemy #2 over here?”

“Maxwell…”

“All of you,” Sally agrees. “How long will you need before you move the Gundams?”

“It’ll still be a couple of days. I have friends who are arranging the transfer,” Quatre replies. He looks over at Wufei. “There’s room for yours as well.”

Wufei looks momentarily surprised before he shakes his head. “I’ll think about it,” he says after a moment.

Sally nods, looks at Noin. “We can convince Une to keep the room for you all through New Year’s, if that works?”

“That would be perfect, thank you both,” Quatre replies.

Noin smiles at them, collecting her folders. “You still don’t get it,” she says. “This is our way of thanking _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the idea of Heero and Trowa knowing about who was behind Operation Meteor came about because 1) Trowa was a mechanic for the Barton Foundation and the real Trowa Barton didn't seem to be all that concerned about blabbing about what his family was planning and 2) During Heero's memory/backstory section in EW Dekim is instructing Dr. J to retrain him. It gave me the impression that Heero may have had some additional dealings with Dekim that the others might not have.


	11. Chapter 11

Wufei immediately takes over the rollaway bed when they return to the hotel and Quatre moves to share with Duo. “Nothing to do but lie around and die of boredom,” Duo is lamenting when Heero exits the bathroom, freshly showered.

“Could you die a little quieter?” Wufei asks. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed and meditating.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Duo replies loudly.

Heero glances around the room, amazed at how one additional person can make it feel so much more cramped. He spies Quatre out on the balcony talking into his phone. No doubt relaying the Preventers meeting to his Maganac companions. “Where’s Trowa?”

Duo shrugs. “How should I know? Does anyone tell me anything?”

Wufei makes a frustrated noise from the floor. “He took a laptop and disappeared out the door ten minutes ago.”

Duo rolls over, cracks an eye open to stare at Heero. “Which I told him not to do, FYI. I told him you were possessive of your things.”

“Hm,” he agrees. He pulls on his sneakers and jacket, grabs Quatre’s ridiculous knit scarf from where he left it coiled on the bed.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Out,” Heero replies, heading for the door.

“Sure,” Duo whines piteously. “Why would anyone tell me anything?”

As the door closes behind him, he can just make out Wufei’s terse reply of “Maybe if you were quiet more often you’d learn something, Maxwell.”

“Bite me, Wufei.”

\--

The front of the hospital is clogged with reporters and protestors calling for Mariemaia’s blood. Heero wraps the scarf around his neck, tilting his face down into it. He hunches his shoulders, shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, and pushes his way through the crowd toward the lobby doors. There are Preventers agents out front attempting crowd control.

They stop him; run a metal detector over him before he’s allowed inside the hospital. From there he makes his way to the information desk, pulls out the Preventers ID badge. “I’m looking for Lady Une,” he states.

The receptionist gives the badge a cursory look and runs a finger down a print out. “She’ll probably be in the Family Lounge on the fifth floor. You need to sign in and get your visitor pass to go upstairs.”

“Of course,” he replies. He takes the pen and clipboard she hands him, flashes her a small smile. Enough to be friendly, not enough to be suspicious. She gives him a tired one in return. “It’s a madhouse out there,” he comments off-handedly.

“You have no idea, Agent Leon. Just this morning we were put on lockdown because two men tried to smuggle explosives in.” She takes the clipboard back and shakes her head. “All because of _that girl_.”

Heero nods, waiting while the computer prints the temporary pass. “Look like she’ll make it?” he asks.

She hands him the badge and shrugs. “I only see the names and room numbers. She’s on the fifth floor, intensive care recovery, not ICU proper. Looks like she might have an angel looking out for her after all.”

“Looks like,” he agrees. He sticks the badge to the front of his jacket and nods at her. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course, just remember to check-out before you leave, Agent Leon. The elevators are over there,” she says, pointing. He nods and heads in the direction she indicated.

\--

He shakes his head when he sees the fifth floor’s security. It’s a miracle the two would-be assassins didn’t make it up here and finish the job already. He wanders down the hallway unquestioned, sees two uniformed Preventers chatting at the nurse’s station, their laughter carrying down the hall while a plainclothes agent idly flips through a magazine with only a cursory look up every few minutes. Either they’re new or Lady Une is losing her touch.

The girl’s room is the last one on the right. The glass doors are closed, but he sees that she’s awake, watching television. She looks small in the large bed. He steps up to the doors and they slide open automatically. He can hear a rerun of one of Relena’s speeches. He thinks it’s the one where she’s asking people to feel compassion for the rebel survivors, especially their leader who saved her life.

“Honestly, I don’t need to be checked on every five minutes,” the girl says without looking up. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“You look well,” he states.

He sees her shoulders tense and she turns her head to look at him. There’s no fear in her eyes, just a hardness he isn’t sure how to interpret. “Heero Yuy,” she says, voice bland. “That scarf is ridiculous.” She watches him approach, body tense and eyes wary but not fearful. It’s the same look the lions at the circus used to give him when he was recovering.

“You’ve made quite the stir,” he replies. He drops into one of the chairs, pulls the scarf from around his neck and stuffs it into his jacket pocket.

“What do you want?” she asks.

He glances at the television, hears Relena saying _We must exercise our compassion in these difficult times, Mariemaia is a misguided child…_ and knows it’s the speech he was thinking of. “To apologize.”

That gets her attention. She pushes herself up in bed with her arms, her legs dragging against the mattress. He doesn’t look at them and she doesn’t comment. “What do _you_ have to apologize for?” she demands.

“For not killing you when I had the chance,” he answers. He watches her face, sees her mouth draw into a thin line. She’s much too serious for seven, he thinks. “I could have spared you the looks and the false sympathy.” He looks at the television. “And the pity.”

She laughs and he looks back at her. She looks amused and bitter. “And what would you know of pity and false sympathy, Heero Yuy?” she asks. Her eyes are piercing, a shade lighter than Treize’s. “You and your fellow Gundam pilots are the world saviors once more. You defeated the rebellion; you crippled its leader--”

“I did not cripple you, Mariemaia. You did that on your own when you stepped in front of your grandfather’s gun.”

She sighs, fiddles with the blanket covering her. “What do you want?” she repeats.

He shrugs, not really sure how to answer. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“That’s it?” There’s a suspicious note to her voice and her eyebrows have risen. He shrugs and she shakes her head. On an impulse he reaches over and grabs her remote. “What are you doing?”

“You shouldn’t be watching press conferences,” he replies. He flips stations until he finds some kind of animated show. “Act like a kid and maybe they’ll start seeing you as one.”

She’s still staring at him incredulously. “Your solution is cartoons?”

He shrugs, wraps the scarf back around his neck. “Can’t hurt,” he replies. “Pilot 02 watches them all the time and plenty of people underestimate him.” He walks out while she’s still blinking owlishly at him.

Lady Une is at the nurse’s station when he enters the hallway. He pauses, weighing his options between taking the emergency stairs or sneaking past her. If there hadn’t already been a security breech earlier, he would chance the alarmed stairwell, but he doesn’t really want to experience Preventers’ hospitality at the moment.

Heero steps lightly down the hallway, head down without looking like he’s rushing anywhere in particular. Lady Une’s back is to the main hallway, her shoulders stiff and almost visibly vibrating with tension, as she addresses her wayward agents. The soft-spoken Lady has been replaced with the battle-hardened Colonel. Heero slows slightly, watches the scene as he passes, and listens to the verbal lashing she doles out.

Lady Une half-turns, as if she senses his passing, and he catches her eye briefly. She frowns but returns her attention to the agents again. Heero takes it as dismissal and doesn’t hang around to eavesdrop further.


	12. Chapter 12

Trowa is the only one in the hotel room when he returns. He’s sitting on the floor, bent in two with his chin against his shins. Heero raises his eyebrows, glancing around as he shrugs off the jacket and drops Quatre’s scarf where he’d found it. Trowa stares at the scarf and shakes his head. “Quatre was looking for that,” he comments.

“Where is everyone?”

“Duo was driving Wufei crazy. Quatre decided to bring Wufei to the Maganacs’s warehouse so he can decide if he wants to move Altron there.”

“And Duo?”

“Was deathly bored and decided to tag along after all.”

“I’m sure Wufei appreciates that.”

“ _I_ appreciated it,” Trowa replies, smirk half-hidden behind the fall of his hair. He sits up and stretches. “Where were you?”

“Hospital.” Trowa’s eyebrows raise. “I went to see your long-lost niece.”

“Ah,” Trowa comments. Heero kicks off his sneakers, sits down next to him on the floor. “How was that?” he asks, watching as Heero stretches forward. He’s not as flexible as Trowa is, but he can bend enough to grasp his in-steps with his hands. Trowa places a hand on his back, careful of the burn, presses gently to deepen the stretch. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

“She looks like she’ll survive,” Heero comments. “I don’t know how you do this so easily.”

“Natural talent,” Trowa replies. To prove it he folds neatly into a king cobra pose, back arched and bare feet against his head. Heero sits up, rolling his eyes.

“This is what I meant by _showing off_ ,” he comments, shoving at Trowa’s leg. Trowa allows himself a small smile, lying down with his head pillowed on his bent arms. “I don’t know why I went,” he admits.

“Atoning,” Trowa replies without hesitation. “You have an addiction to atonement. Noventa, Relena…Mariemaia.” Heero snorts and leans against Duo’s bed. “At least this one’s still in the same city.”

“What, didn’t enjoy our road trip?”

“Would’ve been nicer if there wasn’t a war on,” Trowa replies and then sits up once more. “And if we weren’t smuggling a Gundam around with us. And if you weren’t on a suicide mission.”

Heero shakes his head and doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Picky.” He stretches his legs out, feels the bandage pull at his skin. “So, Dekim did discover you.”

“I never denied it.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Just ask.”

“Why not just answer?” Trowa remains silent and Heero sighs, nudges Trowa’s thigh with his toes. “You said you had to prove your loyalty. What did he ask you to do?”

Trowa folds himself into a lotus pose, breathing deep and quiet. Heero studies him silently, disregarding the sudden impulse to brush Trowa’s hair aside to see his face more clearly. Instead, he matches his breathing to Trowa’s and stares at the pattern on the bedspread behind the taller pilot. He hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how truly garish the blue-red-green pattern was before.

“Nothing you’re imagining,” Trowa replies finally. “I had to tell him what happened to the real Trowa. What happened to his body. If I’d refused he was prepared to have Wufei execute me in front of the rebels.”

“And Wufei would have done it,” Heero states, eyes returning to Trowa. Trowa hums quietly, eyes closed but shoulders still tense. “How did he know that you were telling the truth?”

“I guess it was fortuitous that they were recruiting out of the base they used before the war,” Trowa replies.

“They never got rid of the body?” Heero asks, surprised. “That seems reckless.”

“Doktor S didn’t want to chance it being discovered floating in space before I got off the base and we didn’t have a heat source strong enough to burn it completely. That base is always under construction, it wasn’t hard to find somewhere out of the way to stash some remains. Especially once they’d been made more compact.”

Heero looks over to where the laptop is plugged in and charging on one of the end tables. “Were you talking to Catherine again?”

“Yes, she sent the schedule for the circus’s travel dates. They’ll be in L1 on the first, figure I’ll head that way once we’re officially released.” Trowa shifts so he is staring out the balcony doors. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

Heero’s quiet for a while, thinking it over. Finally he sighs, nudges Trowa again. “You want to go get something to eat? It’s been a while since the apples at Preventers.”

Trowa turns his head to look at him. “Yeah, I could eat.”

\--

They end up finding a food truck a few blocks away, near a small city park. There’s a moderately long line of people standing and chatting in small groups as they wait their turn. They watch two children, a brother and a sister, running around with a young puppy, throwing snow at each other and laughing.

“The colonies try to match Earth.” Heero glances at Trowa when he speaks, sees that he’s looking up at the cloud cover where light flurries of snow are beginning to fall. “But they always miss the smell,” Trowa states.

Heero breathes in, smelling the crisp winter air. “Scientifically we’re just smelling fewer odors than usual,” Heero replies. They move up in the line and Trowa shakes his head.

“Can you honestly tell me the smell here is the same as in space?” he asks.

Heero takes a few more deep breaths. The air is fresher, more renewed. It isn’t the same recycled air and water that the colonies rely on. “No,” he replies. “It’s natural,” he adds. Trowa nods, holds a hand out and watches the flurries collect in his palm, melting away as they warm from his skin.

The little girl squeals as her brother dumps snow over her head. The dog breaks away from the children, leash trailing in the snow. Heero crouches, holds a hand out and smiles as it licks his fingers. The children are too distracted playing to notice their pet missing, their parents busy placing their orders. Heero picks up the trailing leash, scratches behind the puppy’s brown ears. One ear is standing, the other still flopped over.

Trowa smiles when the puppy places its front paws on Heero’s knee, stretches and licks at his chin. “Baz!” the boy cries, looking around. Heero scoops the puppy up, carries the squirming body over to the children. Trowa watches, amused, as it chews on Heero’s jacket collar. The little girl hangs back behind her brother as Heero approaches.

“ _Voici votre chien_ ,” Heero says.

“ _Merci beaucoup, monsieur_ ,” the boy replies. “ _Allons-y,_ Baz.” He takes the squirming dog and Heero returns to the line. Trowa watches the way the little girl stares after Heero. The puppy grabs the end of her scarf and she laughs again, distracted.

“Do you miss Earth?” Heero asks when he’s back beside Trowa. They watch as the mother calls the children up to the food truck, fixes the little girl’s knit hat so that it’s more secure.

“Sometimes,” Trowa replies. “It’s one of the bonuses of staying with the circus, constantly moving back and forth.” He looks at Heero as they move up the line again, the family with the children and dog moving off to a park bench to eat at. “Do you miss the colonies?”

Heero shrugs. “I never settled in one long enough to miss it,” he says before stepping up to the counter to order.

Trowa studies the people while Heero calmly orders their crêpes in French, one wild mushroom with gruyere and one brie with roasted tomatoes. The crêpes are large and warm and they wander down one of the park paths as they eat.

“You weren’t that subtle,” Heero says between bites.

“Was I trying to be?” Trowa asks, licking some of the sauce from his fingers. Heero rolls his eyes and holds out a napkin for him.

“What will you do about Heavyarms?”

“Quatre thinks it’ll be better to wait until the spring to detonate them. He’s worried the cold will interfere somehow.”

“Is that his theory on why Zechs was able to rebuild Wing so accurately?”

“Probably,” Trowa agrees. “It’ll also give us time to move the Gundams out to a secure location.”

“So you are going to use the self-destruct.” He takes a bite, chews thoughtfully. “Wufei won’t join you.”

“I didn’t think he would,” Trowa agrees. They turn onto the main street, heading back toward the hotel. The snow is falling heavier now, collecting in their hair, dusting their shoulders. “I think Quatre has a good chance of convincing him to get rid of Altron on his own, though.” Heero nods and Trowa bumps his arm gently. “What about Zero?”

“It’s in bad enough shape that the detonator should get rid of it for good. They can’t move it yet, maybe it should just stay buried.”

“That _would_ be an act of aggression,” Trowa comments. He drops his empty wrapper into a city trash bin as they pass. “Blowing up the Presidential House isn’t exactly a declaration of peace.”

“Or, blowing up the Gundam could be a statement on the seriousness of peace.”

Trowa shakes his head and tilts his head back to stare up at the flurrying snow. “I visited the bunker. You’ll have your work cut out for you. Not just the Preventers either – it’s still clogged with reporters and spectators.”

“It’s not like I haven’t infiltrated enemy territory before.” He catches Trowa’s eye and frowns. “You know what I mean.”

Trowa sighs and buries his hands in his pockets as they wait for a changing light. “You aren’t going to tell the others about this plan, are you?” Heero shrugs and steps out into the street as the light changes. Trowa sighs again and follows him across the street. “Wait a few days at least? We tried so hard to reduce casualties, I’d hate for it to be for nothing.”

\--

Wufei is in the room when they return. He’s bent over the table, whetstone in one hand and sword in the other. There’s a small bottle of oil next to him and discarded room service plates on the far end.

“Where are Quatre and Duo?” Trowa questions, hanging his jacket in the closet to dry. He shivers in spite of the heated room and Heero frowns at him as he hangs his own jacket.

Wufei looks up from where he’s examining the sword blade. “They went for Thai,” he replies. He returns his attention to the sword in his hands. “I had a headache.”

“Duo?” Heero asks.

“ _Winner_ ,” Wufei mutters and Heero smirks. He imagines Quatre spent a good portion of the afternoon trying to convince Wufei of his plan. Trowa quietly collects his belongings, disappears into the bathroom. A few minutes later the pipes in the walls groan as the shower turns on. Heero takes a seat across from Wufei, pulls out his gun and begins disassembling it.

“What do you think of this self-detonating nonsense?” Wufei asks, voice quiet.

Heero shrugs. He tilts the handgun for better lighting, checks the slide carefully. “Quatre believes it’s the right thing to do,” he replies.

“I know. He was very impassioned while we were moving Nataku to the warehouse.” Wufei pauses, looking at Heero. “I asked what _you_ thought of it.”

“Duo made a good point. The Gundams were a symbol of the colonies’ desire for peace. They have that now.” He fiddles with one of the bullets, running his thumb over the tip of it. “Maybe this is our chance to stop fighting.”

Wufei’s quiet, considering. Heero checks the barrel, begins to reassemble the gun. “What about Barton?” Wufei asks. “What are his thoughts?”

“You could ask him,” Heero counters.

Wufei sets his sword and whetstone down in front of him. He carefully runs his thumb along the edge. “I don’t think we’re on the best terms right now,” he states wryly.

“You might be surprised, he’s pretty forgiving,” Heero replies.

Wufei studies him for a moment. The pipes groan again as the shower shuts off. “I suppose he is. He did forgive Winner for the amnesia, didn’t he?”

Heero shrugs. He rechambers the magazine and sets the gun aside. “It’s up to you, Wufei. No one’s going to force you to detonate Altron. Just remember, someone out there will always want to have the most firepower, why set the bar high?”

The bathroom door opens and Trowa pads out silently. He walks over, takes the seat next to Heero and grabs the medical bag. Wufei raises an eyebrow and Trowa shrugs. “Part of his parole,” he comments.

Heero’s eyes narrow, but he obediently removes his shirt, as Trowa steps behind him. He takes the bottle of antibiotics Trowa hands him, dry swallows two automatically. Trowa peels the bandage back, fingers light against his skin. He maneuvers Heero until the burn is properly lit by the overhead light. “It’s looking better,” Trowa comments.

Wufei gets up, sheathes his sword before placing it and the whetstone away in the bag he’d brought with him. “Can we trust Winner’s judgement?” he asks, looking over at the other two pilots.

Heero feels Trowa’s hands still on his back. “I think so,” Trowa says, voice loud in the quiet room. “He’s always seen peace as attainable. Maybe we’re looking for imaginary battles.”

Wufei nods, sits down on the rollaway bed and watches as Trowa resumes his work on Heero’s shoulder. “Maybe,” he agrees.


	13. Chapter 13

Duo and Quatre return shivering and covered in snow. Quatre disappears into a warm shower while Duo crawls under the covers, teeth chattering. “It’s like a blizzard outside. _Shit_ , I miss the colonies,” he complains. “I don’t know why anyone would want to live in these conditions.”

Wufei rolls his eyes and throws an extra blanket over the shivering lump in the bed. Heero ignores him, focused on the press conference Relena is giving on television. Behind her stand Lady Une and the ESUN President. Trowa glances at the screen from time to time; otherwise he’s immersed in the laptop in front of him.

“ _After much discussion between Preventers, the President of the ESUN, and myself, we believe that it is in the best interests of all parties_ not _to charge Mariemaia Khushrenada as a war criminal,”_ Relena states. There’s an uproar from the assembled crowd and Relena waits it out patiently. _“It is evident from the interviews conducted with those involved in both perpetrating and fighting the rebellion that Miss Khushrenada was being used as a pawn by Dekim Barton--”_

Heero mutes the screen as Quatre rejoins them, scrubbing his blonde hair with a towel. “It’s really coming down out there,” Quatre says. He rubs his hands together, somehow still looking cold even though steam is curling out the open bathroom door and his skin is flushed a splotchy red from the heat. “Was that Miss Relena I heard?”

“They’re not charging Mariemaia,” Heero replies.

“It’s going over real well,” Duo adds from his nest. Quatre pokes at the lump dubiously. “What?”

“Are you going to hog all the blankets tonight?” Quatre asks.

“I haven’t decided,” Duo replies. Quatre glances up, gives Heero a long-suffering look. Heero offers him a one-shouldered shrug and Quatre sighs. “Depends on whether you have cold feet.”

“I’m wearing socks.”

Duo pokes his head out, eyes Quatre in his sweatpants, sweater, and bright wool socks. “Alright,” he says. “You can have _some_ of the blankets.”

“How generous,” Quatre replies, smiling in spite of his tone. He looks over at Heero and Trowa. “Did you two manage to get dinner?”

“Yes,” Trowa replies. He finishes checking shuttle flights to L1, shutting down the laptop. “We got back when it was still flurrying.”

“ _Lucky_ ,” Duo grumbles. “You didn’t have to deal with the blizzard from nowhere.”

“Are you going to whine all night, Maxwell?” Wufei questions. The lump shrugs and Wufei glares. “I almost miss the Preventers’ holding cell.”

“It’s Quatre you have to worry about,” Heero states. Quatre makes a spluttering sound as he climbs into the bed next to Duo. Heero flips the TV off. “He snores.”

“I do _not_ ,” Quatre protests. “I don’t,” he insists at the ensuing silence.

Wufei groans as he rolls over to face the wall. “Fantastic.”

\--

Quatre’s snoring starts up just as Heero is beginning to drift off. He sighs, turning over and studying Trowa’s back in the gloom. He can just make out the scarred edge of an old burn from where the sheet has slipped.

“Sometimes I miss Europe,” Trowa says, voice soft between Quatre’s snores.

Heero blinks, surprised. He’d thought Trowa had drifted off twenty minutes ago, around the time Wufei did. “Yeah?” He keeps his voice hushed, not sure how deep a sleeper Wufei is. “I thought you found it pointless.”

“It was,” Trowa replies, he turns over so he’s facing Heero. “I spent months getting you back to normal and you were content to throw it all away.” Trowa’s bangs are mostly dry; they form odd angles in the dim light, masking Trowa’s face in shadow. “I didn’t know if I envied you your drive or wanted to shoot you myself.”

Heero’s eyebrows raise with genuine curiosity. “And you miss that?”

Trowa’s face is unreadable in the shadows.

Heero reaches out, pauses with his fingers hovering in front of Trowa’s hair. He doesn’t like not being able to read his expression. Trowa tilts his head slightly and his eyes close as Heero brushes his hair back carefully. His thumb catches on thin scar along Trowa’s right temple, usually hidden by the fall of his hair. Trowa keeps his eyes closed, but his face is relaxed. Heero pulls his hand back slowly.

“Get some sleep,” Heero says. He twists in the bed, feels Trowa’s eyes watching him before the bed shifts and Trowa rolls over, back to him once more. He lies in bed, listening to Duo’s deep breathing, Quatre’s snores, Wufei’s even breathing. Trowa’s feet nudge his under the covers and he sighs, closes his eyes and tries to follow his own advice.

\--

Heero wakes suddenly, reaches automatically for the gun under his pillow.

It’s still dark, shadows dancing across the ceiling from the streetlight outside and the wind-blown tree branches. He lies quiet, listens to the noises of the other occupants in the room and lets his eyes adjust to the dimness. He feels the bed shake and turns to face Trowa.

The other pilot is still asleep, motionless aside from the slight tremble that passes over him every so often. Heero frowns, releases his grip on the gun and studies Trowa silently. There’s a faint sheen to his skin, and his forehead is creased.

“Trowa,” he says, voice pitched soft so as not to disturb the others. There’s no reaction and he sighs resignedly, reaches out with his left hand to grasp Trowa’s shoulder and give him a hard shake. “Trowa,” he repeats, firmer.

Trowa’s hand wraps around his wrist as soon as he makes contact. In seconds he finds himself flat on his back, Trowa’s forearm pressed hard against his windpipe and wrist pinned to the bed. He keeps his muscles lax, stares up at Trowa evenly. Trowa blinks and sits back, forearm releasing its pressure from his neck and fingers uncurling from his wrist. Heero takes a couple deep breaths, waits until Trowa retreats to the other side of the bed before he sits up as well, keeps his movements slow and easy.

He can’t see Trowa’s expression since he’s silhouetted against the window, but he knows Trowa can see his. He inclines his head toward the door, eyebrows raised. Trowa’s shadow nods and Heero climbs out of bed, pulls on jeans and sweater. He hears Trowa follow suit but doesn’t turn to check. He shoves his feet into his sneakers and grabs his coat as he heads for the door.

They’re quiet as they wander the hallway and take the stairs down to the lobby. It’s still snowing, but not as thickly. The wind is sharp and the streets are deserted, the sky gray with dawn and the threat of more snow. Heero leads them down the path they’d taken the previous night, eyes scanning the darkened storefronts automatically.

“How’s your throat?” Trowa asks finally, breath misting in the cold air.

Heero glances at him and shrugs. “Feels fine,” he replies. His voice is raspy and he isn’t sure if it’s from sleep or bruising. Trowa has his coat on, and a scarf Heero doesn’t remember seeing earlier. His hands are shoved into his pockets. “Should I have let you sleep?”

“It’s fine,” Trowa says. He inhales the sharp, cold smell of the fresh snow. “Duo was right. It is colder than on the colonies.”

It’s still early, just the dim gray of dawn peeking through the heavy snow clouds. There are scattered lights reflecting in the windows as people begin to ready for the day. The smell of fresh bread permeates the air, warm and inviting in the cold, empty streets.

“You’re still having nightmares,” Heero states. The other pilot nods but doesn’t say anything further. They follow the smell of fresh bread to a small boulangerie just opening. Heero waits while Trowa orders a box of croissants and two coffees. “Same as the ones in Barcelona?”

“No.” Trowa studies the menu and display of fresh, warm breads while they wait for the order. “The Captain used to say it was a side-effect of the amnesia.”

“Makes sense,” he agrees. The sky is brighter when they exit the boulangerie, coffees in hand and box of croissants tucked securely under Trowa’s arm, and the snow has lessened to a bare flurry that seems to melt as soon as it lands.. Heero studies Trowa’s movements. They’re looser, not as restricted or tense. Heero falls into step next to him and nods toward the increasing traffic in the streets. “Should probably head back soon.”

Trowa nods, adjusts his direction so that they’re heading back toward the hotel. “I’m fine, you don’t have to hover.” Heero snorts and takes a long drink of coffee instead of responding. He sees Trowa’s wry smile out of the corner of his eye. “Okay,” he says, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Point taken.”


	14. Chapter 14

Trowa stops him in the hotel stairwell, tilts his head back with one hand to examine the column of his neck. “There’s some bruising now.”

“I’ve had worse,” Heero replies. He feels Trowa’s fingers press against his neck. “I’m not bleeding this time.”

Trowa ignores him. “No swelling,” he notes. He moves his hand to the other side of his neck. “Any pain?”

“No,” Heero replies evenly. He shifts and adjusts his grip on the pastry box and his coffee. “Are you done?”

“Maybe you should see Sally.”

“I am not seeing Sally for a bruise,” Heero snaps. He hands Trowa the pastry box and tosses his coffee cup into the stairwell rubbish bin. “Try and get some more sleep before the others wake up. You look tired.”

Trowa’s lips quirk. “Anyone tell you that you have a way of making others feel good about themselves?” Heero shrugs and Trowa’s brows draw together in a frown. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not tired,” he says. “I might try and get some recon in while everyone’s asleep.”

Trowa’s frown deepens. “The reporters are still swarming the crash site,” he states. “And it’s full of Preventers. You won’t get much closer than the road.”

Heero shrugs and steps toward the stairwell door. “I’m not looking to get close. I just want to see the layout. It was a bit of a blur with the crash and all.” He pauses and looks back at Trowa. “I mean it, try and get some sleep. Even if you have to smother Quatre to do so.”

Heero leaves to the sound of Trowa’s laughter echoing in the stairwell.

\--

The snow has stopped falling by the time Quatre wakes in the morning, but it lays thick over the balcony and ground. Trowa has the curtains pulled partly open and is sitting on the dining bench, staring out at the field of undisturbed white. Quatre rubs at his eyes and yawns, climbing out of bed.

Duo immediately starfishes himself into the middle of the bed when Quatre gets up. He shakes his head and looks over at the rollaway. Wufei is still in his bed, eyes closed and breathing even. The other bed is empty, the bathroom door ajar. He frowns and pads over to Trowa.

“Heero’s gone?” Quatre asks, voice hushed so as not to wake the other two.

“Went for a run,” Trowa replies. Quatre notices he has a cup of something steaming in his hands and frowns.

“In the snow?” Quatre questions. Trowa takes a sip from the cup. Quatre waits a moment, he’s learned that sometimes it takes Trowa time to weigh his response. After a minute he lets it go. “How long have you been up?” he asks instead. He pulls up a chair and mirrors Trowa’s position, staring out at the snow. He can’t help getting distracted by how it sparkles in the weak winter sunlight. For all of the technological advances on the colonies, there are some things they’ve never been able to recreate.

“A while,” Trowa murmurs. He rolls his shoulders and nods to a pastry box in the middle of the table that Quatre hadn’t noticed previously. “They’re probably still warm.”

“Thank you,” he says. He takes a croissant from the box and inhales the buttery smell deeply before taking a bite. “These are really good! Did you go out?”

Trowa nods. “Felt like stretching my legs.”

“Well, thank you for bringing these back,” Quatre says, smiling.

Behind him Duo stirs and inhales sharply. Trowa doesn’t look over as Duo lets out an exaggerated yawn and sits up. “Do I smell bread?” he asks.

“Croissants,” Trowa replies.

“Excellent!” Duo exclaims. He bounds out of bed, hits Wufei’s face with a pillow as he passes. Wufei splutters and sits up, glaring. “Wakey, wakey, breakfast time!” he singsongs.

“How you’ve survived this long is still a mystery,” Wufei states.

Duo ignores him, leaning over Quatre to fish two croissants from the box. “Know what would make this better?” he asks. “Bacon.”

\--

Heero returns just as room service is departing. He side-steps the waiter and closes the door behind him. Duo has a plate of bacon and waffles in front of him, munching away happily. “How did you pass your physical?” he asks, eyeing the plate of food. He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it by the door.

Duo gives him a good natured one-fingered salute and swallows his mouthful of waffle-and-whip cream. “We’re in Belgium, waffles are the national food.” Heero swipes a piece of bacon as he passes. Trowa catches his eye from the table, eyebrows subtly raising in question. He gives a quick shake of his head and Trowa returns his attention to his own breakfast. “Hey! Get your own bacon.”

“How was the run?” Quatre asks. He stirs his tea and picks at the croissant in front of him.

Heero shrugs as he sits on the edge of the bed and stretches. “Alright,” he replies, voice rough from the cold. He nods to the box on the table. “Any left?” Trowa pulls the box over, looking into it. He extracts a croissant and places it on an empty plate, along with a couple strips of bacon from his own plate, before passing it over. “Thanks.”

Duo looks up from his plate. “Think anyone would notice if we took a field trip?”

“Field trip?” Wufei asks. He turns a page in the newspaper he’s looking through. “What type of field trip?”

Duo shrugs and bites into another piece of bacon. “Well, I dunno about you all but I’ve never been to Brussels. I’d like to see it while I’m here.”

Quatre raises his eyebrows questioningly. “I thought you didn’t like the cold.”

“Well, yeah,” Duo replies. He pops the rest of the bacon in his mouth. “But when’s the last time you saw _real_ snow?”

Wufei doesn’t look convinced as he shares a look with Trowa and Heero. Heero shrugs in return. “Guess he needs to burn off the sugar somehow.”

\--

Duo bounces down the street. He looks like an overstuffed marshmallow in all of his layers. Quatre does his best to corral him, but his voice is muffled from his brightly colored knit scarf he’s using for both warmth and some kind of anonymity and Duo mostly ignores him. Wufei falls into step next to Heero.

“Any idea where we’re being lead?”

“Quatre wanted to visit some museum,” Heero replies.

“That won’t end well,” Wufei muses. He follows Heero’s gaze to where Trowa is walking next to Quatre, occasionally nodding at what the blonde pilot is saying. “What happened this morning?”

“What do you mean?”

Wufei levels a look at him. “Something happened with you and Barton,” he said. “You both left, he came back alone, and your neck is bruising. You two have a fight?”

Heero snorts and shakes his head. “It was nothing.”

Wufei is quiet as they cross another street. “How has he been since the War? Everything normal up there?” he asks.

“He’s fine,” Heero replies, voice sharp. Duo darts into a bakery up ahead and Quatre follows him in. Wufei and Heero join Trowa outside the door. “I don’t know why Quatre bothers.”

Trowa shrugs and tilts his face up toward the sun. The streets are still mostly deserted from the snow, but there’s a newsstand open. Heero runs his eyes over the headlines, most of them unflattering to Relena, the ESUN President, Preventers, or all three. He pauses when one headline catches his eyes. _The Gundam Problem – Why Are Citizens Being Kept in the Dark_?

Heero nudges Trowa lightly in the arm before nodding toward the newspaper when he’s caught his attention. Trowa nods once, rocking back on his heels slightly. “Quatre was just telling me about that on the walk over.”

“What problem?” Wufei asks, skimming the headlines. They move away from the newsstand, taking a spot where they’re still in sight of the bakery but out of hearing of the newsstand operator. Through the window they catch a glimpse Duo gesticulating to the girl behind the counter while Quatre rubs his temples. “Without the Gundams they’d have bigger issues.”

Trowa shifts, arms crossing. “One of Quatre’s men contacted him this morning. Preventers is under fire for not getting a handle on the uprising before things got out of hand. And for relying on the Gundams for assistance.”

Wufei shakes his head and Heero frowns. “Relena’s support of Mariemaia isn’t helping, I’m sure. Especially since Mariemaia had a Gundam on her side.”

“No, I imagine it isn’t.”

Wufei glares, kicking a light pole. “It’s just like the War. They’re happy when we’re useful and ready to throw us on the pyre when they don’t need us.”

“Maybe Quatre’s plan isn’t so crazy after all,” Heero says finally.

They stand there quietly, watching the few passersby hurrying down the street. The bakery door opens behind them, bells tinkling in the crisp air. Trowa glances at Heero, debates on suggesting they meet with Lady Une. Suddenly Wufei lets out an indignant squawk, spinning around and grabbing at the back of his jacket. Duo grins brightly, bits of snow clinging to his hand still.

“Maxwell!” Wufei roars. He dislodges some of the snow Duo had stuffed down the back of his jacket and glares at Duo.

“What? You looked like you needed to cool down,” Duo replies, still grinning. He dances back as Wufei advances on him. “Quat bought pastries, they’re good.”

Quatre approaches them then. The lower half of his face is hidden by the ridiculous scarf, but the corners of his eyes have crinkled and the irises are bright with laughter. Wufei glares at them all, makes a half-hearted swipe at Duo that he’s able to dodge easily. “We’re close to the MIM now,” Quatre says.

Trowa nods, looks at Wufei. “There are too many witnesses to kill Duo here,” he points out.

Wufei’s shoulders are still tense, his hands still fisted tightly. He exhales, still watching Duo. “Fine, but _he_ walks in front.”


	15. Chapter 15

The museum Quatre brings them to is a glass-fronted building with a small glass turret on the side and filigreed ironwork across the roofline. Near the top of the four story building the words _Old England_ are stamped in what looks like gold plating. The more understated _mim_ is over the door. Heero had expected some type of art museum, filled with canvases and sculptures from long-since deceased artists, the type he’d had to study while at St. Gabriel’s or decorating the halls at the palace in Sanc.

Instead, it turns out to be a museum dedicated to musical instruments through the ages. Heero doesn’t know much about music – they’d had music lessons at Sanc but he’d be hard pressed now to tell you the difference between the composers. Quatre seems absorbed in the violin section while Duo disappears into the atelier, where instruments are set up for practical demonstrations.

He joins Trowa over where he’s examining a seven-bell trombone. “How did it go?” Trowa asks quietly.

“You were right,” he replies. “It was completely packed.” Trowa nods and Heero studies the instrument in front of them. “How would you even play that?”

Trowa shrugs. “It’s out of my expertise,” he says. They move on to the next display. “I think you should reconsider your plan.”

“Because of the reporters.”

“Yes,” Trowa replies.

Heero frowns. “I’ll think about it.”

Wufei wanders over to them. “I give it another fifteen minutes before security escorts Maxwell out for disturbing the peace. It’s a shame, this is actually interesting.”

Heero glances in the direction Duo had disappeared. Faintly he can hear some type of drum banging coming from the atelier. “We could say we don’t know him,” Trowa comments. “There’s nothing to connect him to us.”

Wufei smiles at that and they enter another room. There’s a set of large bronze bells on display, the placard reading _bianzhong_. “Tempting,” he comments. He studies the large bells. “Where’s Winner?”

“Still with the violins, I imagine,” Heero comments. “He seemed well-occupied with them.”

\--

Through no real pre-planning on their parts, they end up reconvening in the piano and keyboard room an hour later. Wufei and Quatre both have gift shop bags and are talking earnestly about the historical significance of music. Heero lets them pull ahead, dropping back to walk alongside Trowa. “Guess we should find Duo,” he comments.

Trowa nods toward the opposite side of the room. “Won’t be too hard,” he replies.

Heero looks in the direction Trowa indicated and sees the wayward pilot staring at a massive instrument set into an alcove. Trowa changes direction, heading over to where Duo is standing motionless, examining the instrument. Heero gets Wufei’s attention, nodding over toward where Duo is. Wufei nods his acknowledgement and Heero follows Trowa.

“Pipe organ,” he hears Trowa read off the plaque.

“Is it a type of piano?” Heero asks.

“Pianos are actually string instruments,” Quatre comments. He comes to stand on the other side of Heero. “Pipe organs use wind through the tubes. They’re very complex, there were only a few brought to the colonies because of it.” He shifts his gift bag to the other hand. “My father took us to an opera once, when we came to Earth. I guess I was eight or nine, and a couple of my sisters were with us for the trip. They had an organ, it was quite impressive.”

“When I was a kid,” Duo says, “I would sneak into the nave after I was supposed to be asleep.” Heero glances at Duo curiously. He’s still standing rapt in front of the organ, but his voice has a distant, almost dream-like quality to it. “The choir would be practicing usually and Sister Helen would be playing the old organ. It wasn’t as grand as this one, but listening to it? Sometimes, when she was playing, you’d start believing there _was_ a God.” He sighs and absently fiddles with the end of his braid, running it over his fingers. “There were a lot of nights Father would find me asleep on a pew.”

“It sounds peaceful,” Trowa comments quietly.

Duo laughs and runs a hand over the top of his hair. “Yeah, it was a pretty good time,” he says. “Close to peaceful as the colonies ever got anyway.” He looks around at the other pilots and grins. “Hey, what’s with the looks? I’m always maudlin when I’m starving, time for lunch?”

Quatre nods decisively. “Sounds good, it’s been awhile since breakfast.”

\--

They end up at a brasserie for lunch. The restaurant is half-full with the lunch rush and they’re seated in a larger booth off to one side. The clientele is a mixture of tourists and locals, and they pass unnoticed by the staff. Duo seems to shake off his previous melancholy when the basket of hot rolls are placed on the table. He happily tears into one, slathering yellow butter on the hot bread.

Quatre and Heero end up translating the menu for the others and Quatre takes pity on Wufei’s pronunciation, ordering for him when the waiter returns after a few minutes. Wufei’s scowl isn’t quite up to its normal caliber, which Quatre takes as a thank you. He sips his hot tea and looks over at where Heero is sitting across from him.

“Where did you learn to speak French?” Quatre asks curiously. “You seem almost fluent.”

“Guess someone actually paid attention in those fancy boarding schools, huh?” Duo asks, swallowing the last bite of bread. He leans back in the booth and sips at his beer to wash down the hot roll.

“Boarding school?” Wufei asks, frowning.

Heero shrugs. “Undercover work,” he comments. He looks over at Quatre. “I had an extended job when I was younger involving a French diplomat.”

“Job?” Quatre repeats, frowning. “Before the War?”

Heero nods, turning his attention to the _moules-frites_ the waiter sets in front of him. “It was easier to befriend a politician’s kid than get close to the politicians themselves,” he explains after the waiter has disappeared.

Quatre frowns at him over his _vol-au-vent_. “What were you, a spy?”

Heero shrugs, busy eating, and Duo looks up from his _steak-frites_. “Is that why you and Relena are…” he trails off, waving a French fry around.

Heero raises an eyebrow at him. “Relena and I are…?”

Duo shrugs at him. “I dunno, man. Whatever it is you two are.” Heero remains silent and Duo sighs loudly. “Fine, whatever. She’s not bad looking, and she doesn’t seem as crazy now as when I first met her.”

“Duo…” Quatre tries to interject.

“No, seriously. First time I meet these two and he’s threatening to kill her. I take him down and she yells at _me_. Talk about ungrateful.” He munches on his fries. “Granted I don’t have as much to do with her, but from what I’ve seen she’s pretty level headed. I mean, except for the fact that she still seems to like you.”

Heero levels a look at Duo. “There is nothing between Relena and I.”

Duo looks like he’s about to protest but Wufei interrupts. “If the reason you’re interrogating Yuy on his personal life is to put me off my lunch, then congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

“Hey, _you’re_ the one who ordered the weird vegetable-ham dish,” Duo protests. “That’s solely on _you.”_

The two fall to bickering and Quatre sighs, quietly retrieving a small container of aspirin from his jacket pocket and downing two. “I didn’t mean for it to turn to an interrogation,” he apologizes quietly.

Heero shrugs and returns his attention to his meal. “I’ve learned Duo likes to hear himself talk,” he says finally. Quatre nods before turning his attention to the other two pilots, trying to divert their attention back to something civilized.

Heero looks over at Trowa, who has the misfortune of sitting between Wufei and himself. “How’s the _carbonade flamande_?” he asks.

“Similar to the beef bourguignon in Provence,” he comments. “I think I prefer the wine sauce though.” He shifts closer to Heero to get out of the line of fire as Duo starts throwing fries at Wufei’s head. For his part, Wufei mostly ignores the projectiles, occasionally dodging if they come too close. “Want to try some before we get thrown out?”

Heero reaches over with his spoon, tasting the beef stew curiously. He allows Trowa a handful of fries in return. “You’re right,” he says finally. “The beer sauce isn’t bad, but the red wine is more flavorful.”

Duo yelps and they look over to see Quatre lightly pinning his hand to the table with his fork. “Just because you wasted all your fries by being childish doesn’t mean you get to steal mine,” he states calmly. “I’m going to release you and you’re going to finish your meal like a civilized individual, yes?”

“Yes,” Duo replies. Quatre lifts his fork and Duo hastily retrieves his hand. He rubs it and gives Quatre a wounded look. “It’s always the quiet ones, huh?” He pauses, glances around the table and groans. “Well, that explains why I’m always doomed,” he mutters. Quatre rolls his eyes and places a handful of fries on Duo’s plate. “Yes! This is why you’re my favorite, Quat!”

Quatre rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling when he returns to his puff pastry dish.


	16. Chapter 16

After lunch they make their way to the city limits, past the historical architecture and modern additions, out to where the defunct military and commercial warehouses are. The Maganacs had taken over a nondescript warehouse on the outer edges. From the machinery left behind it appears to be some type of clothing manufacturer.

“We’ve secured passage out of Brussels,” Rashid announces. They follow him through the warehouse, watching the other Maganacs as they prepare the mobile suits and Gundams for transport. “We’ll head east to Bonn and then on to Prague by land. From there we should be able to secure an air carrier to our base without attracting undue attention.”

Duo slaps a hand to the older man’s shoulder. “We really appreciate you doing this for us,” he states.

“Of course,” Rashid replies, smiling. “It’s always a pleasure working with friends of Master Quatre’s.”

Trowa follows the taller man as he explains how they’ll be transporting the Gundams, gesturing to the canvas covers being wrapped around each of the suits. “A Preventers agent reached out about a diversion with some of their own suits.”

“That would be Miss Noin,” Quatre replies. Rashid nods.

“We’ve agreed that she’ll send those suits toward Ghent in case any reporters get nosey.”

“And if they don’t fall for the bait?” Trowa asks. He stops next to Heavyarms, looks up at the Gundam.

“Then we come up with something on the fly,” another Maganac answers, laughing.

Heero watches their preparations before turning to Rashid. “Why repair them if you’re just going to destroy them?” he asks.

Rashid shrugs. “Don’t know what kind of trouble we’ll meet on the road. I’d rather take the time now to make sure we’re strong enough to get where we need to than rely on luck and Abdul’s makeshift plans.”

“ _Hey_!” the other Maganac protests. But the group of men are laughing and soon Abdul joins in with them. Quatre gives them all a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you, Rashid,” Quatre says. He looks at the rest of the Maganacs. “Thank you to everyone. Duo’s right, we appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“If you don’t mind,” Wufei interjects, looking at Quatre and Rashid. “I would appreciate it if Nataku goes with you to at last Prague. I can make my way from there.”

Rashid nods. “We can arrange it.” He claps his hands together. “Alright, back to work everyone. These suits won’t get themselves ready!” The Maganacs scatter back to their individual tasks and Rashid turns his attention back to the pilots. “Your friend, Miss Noin, also mentioned another storm is set to come in for New Year’s.”

Quatre nods, frowning. “I heard them mention it on the news. Will it impact the removal?”

“We’re hoping to use the storm as cover to get out. The problem is if the transports get iced in, or if the visibility drops too far. There’s only so much we can do with thermo-guidance if the whole world is covered in ice. And I don’t want to chance the mountains with no visibility.”

“We understand,” Duo replies. “Whatever you guys decide is best, we’ll follow your lead.”

\--

They return to the hotel once they finish their meeting with Rashid and checking on the four Gundams. Heero feels the itch under his skin return and is debating on going back out – whether to wander the streets or stake out the crash site he isn’t sure yet. Duo stops suddenly, just outside the hotel room door, a frown on his face. The others pause as well, waiting while he steps light-footed to the wall next to the door.

He holds the keycard up to the reader and then pushes the door in when the light turns green. “You don’t have to shoot,” Noin’s voice calls, once the door is open. “Though I am curious how you knew.” They file in slowly, seeing her seated at the table. She has a paperback novel face-down in front of her.

Duo shrugs, pointing up. “Old trick,” he says. A clear piece of tape is just visible hanging from the top of the doorframe. He reaches up and pulls it loose before closing the door behind him. “No one ever looks up.”

“I didn’t realize Preventers made it a habit to break-and-enter,” Wufei comments.

“What can we do for you?” Quatre asks, shooting Wufei a look.

“I’m off-duty,” she comments. “See, no jacket.” Wufei crosses his arms and leans against the wall, looking unimpressed. “Zechs has a favor to ask,” she adds.

“Oh, of course. If Zechs Merquise is asking…” Duo says. He flops into the chair next to Noin and raises his eyebrows. “And what does he want with a couple of nice upstanding citizens such as ourselves?”

Quatre winces and Noin raises her eyebrows at Duo. She’s still smiling, but there’s an edge to it now that wasn’t there before. “What’s the favor?” Heero asks.

“The ESUN President has decided to host a New Year’s Eve party as a way of showing strength and unity after the attack. Relena’s been invited. I’m sure you’ve heard about the…unrest. He’d like to have people he can trust watching her. Relena’s support of the Gundams, and Mariemaia, hasn’t earned her any fans lately.”  
  


“Why not have Preventers handle it?” Trowa asks. “I thought that was part of their purpose.”

Noin runs a thumb along the pages of the paperback novel absently. “There are some who aren’t satisfied with Preventers’ handling of the attempted rebellion. Including some of the agents.” She looks at each of them. “When Preventers was first founded, Une didn’t really have a lot of choice in who she took. It was the best way to unify the factions after all the fighting…but, well. Let’s just say there are some in Preventers who would happily put a bullet in Zechs’s skull if they saw him and he feels his presence would draw more animosity than protection for his sister.”

Trowa raises his eyebrows. “And you don’t think that applies to anyone in this room.”

Noin meets his eyes steadily. “For some reason, you lot always seemed smarter than that.”

Duo stretches in his chair. “I dunno, tomorrow is New Year’s Eve and all, maybe we have plans.”

Noin’s eyebrows raise and she gives him an amused smile. “I wasn’t aware you knew anyone in Brussels to make plans with.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a pretty personable guy. I make friends easy.”

“Aren’t you contracted with Preventers,” Trowa questions.

“Yeah, for salvage jobs,” Duo scoffs. “Technically I’m not supposed to partake in fieldwork.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky that his favor was addressed primarily to Heero,” she says lightly. “You might not have to cancel your plans after all.”

Heero takes a seat on the edge of the bed and studies Noin. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a few days, but her eyes are brighter than he remembers from their time on Peacemillion or in Sanc. “Fine,” he says. “But I want to see the security detail and a list of who will be there.”

“You can’t be serious,” Duo groans.

Wufei shakes his head. “Yuy’s right. Zechs wouldn’t ask if he didn’t think there was a real threat.”

“How serious are we talking?” Quatre questions.

“Serious enough,” Noin replies. She gets to her feet, collecting her book and putting it in her bag. “I’ll have Pagan bring the information you requested when he drops off your clothes for tomorrow. The uniform sizing from Sanc should suffice, right?”

“Clothes?” Trowa asks.

“He’ll have to look the part of a security detail.” Noin winks. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Relena doesn’t make them pink.”

Heero nods once in acknowledgement. “Noin, the classified information too.”

“Of course,” she replies.

\--

Pagan drops the bag of clothes and requested documents off while Trowa is showering and the other three have disappeared on the search for food. Heero takes the things from Pagan, dropping the garment bag on the bed, and installs himself at the table with the laptop and the annotated lists Zechs provided.

Trowa exits the bathroom on Heero’s second read-through of the party guests. Most are local dignitaries, he recognizes Une’s name, Relena’s of course, and Dorothy’s. The others he only knows from the headlines. “I can feel your disapproval from here,” he comments without looking up.

“Can you?” Trowa replies.

There’s a soft thud and Heero glances over to see the bag of bandages and ointment sitting on the tabletop. He sighs and sits back from the lists in front of him. “I thought we were done with this part.”

“Indulge me,” Trowa says. Heero unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off while Trowa pulls out fresh bandaging and ointment. “See anything in the files yet?”

“Nothing obvious,” Heero replies. He returns his attention to the papers while Trowa steps behind him, carefully removing the tape and bandage. “Just a bunch of politicians and dignitaries.” He slides the list of agents out so that Trowa can see it. “Recognize any names?”

Trowa leans over Heero’s shoulder, lightly pressing against his back as he studies the printout. “Meyer and Wagner,” he says after a moment. “They were part of OZ.”

Heero nods, circling them with a pen. “Did I meet them?”

Trowa frowns. He smears the ointment on Heero’s shoulder while he thinks. “I don’t think so, but they might know your face,” he says finally. “I don’t think we need to keep this bandaged much longer, the healing looks good. No sign of infection.” He covers it with a new bandage. “Let me see your throat.”

“Trowa.” Trowa grabs the back of the chair, tugging until it’s half turned. Heero sighs and gets up, turning to face Trowa. “It’s fine,” he says. He crosses his arms over his chest but allows Trowa to tilt his chin back.

“It’s definitely bruising,” Trowa replies.

“I know,” Heero comments as Trowa presses lightly on the sides of his neck. Trowa looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “Wufei mentioned it earlier.”

“What did you say?” he asks, returning to his examination.

Heero tilts his head back further, staring up at the ceiling. “The truth,” he replies. Trowa releases him, stepping back and Heero levels a look at him. “It was nothing.”

Trowa studies him for a moment longer before turning to the garment bag on the end of the bed. “You should have back-up,” he says. He picks up the bag and carries it to the closet, hanging it next to their coats.

“Noin will be there.” He catches the frown on Trowa’s face and smiles wryly. “You still don’t trust her.”

“Noin is fine,” Trowa replies. He crosses the room again, sits on the bed and looks out at the snow-covered balcony. “Her main concern will be Relena,” he says finally.

Heero leans against the table, watching Trowa curiously. “It should be,” he replies. They’re both quiet, the only sound the soft whirring of the heating system kicking on, a door down the hall banging shut.

Trowa nods and turns back to Heero. “Let me check the sutures on your leg before I forget.”

“Yes, Dr. Barton,” Heero mutters. Trowa ignores him and Heero pushes off from the table, kicking off his sneakers and rolling up the jeans and placing his foot on his abandoned chair. Trowa leans over, examining the sutures. He removes the old bandage and reapplies a new one silently. “I’ll send a message to Noin tonight.”

“Okay,” Trowa replies. He rolls the denim down, careful that it doesn’t catch on the bandage.

Heero watches him a moment longer before he hands him the file Pagan brought over. “See if you recognize anymore names,” he says. Trowa takes the papers and Heero sits down on the bench seat at the table again. He shrugs on his shirt while he waits for the Preventers database to load on the laptop. “Anyone who may recognize us from the Lunar Base.”

After a few moments Trowa gets up. He sits next to Heero, grabbing the discarded pen to make his own notations on the list of names. His shoulder presses against Heero’s. He doesn’t shift away so Heero doesn’t either. Heero glances over at the notes Trowa’s making before turning his attention back to the laptop and typing a brief message out to send to Noin.

_Update to plans. T will also be joining security detail, measurements below for uniform. Looking forward to the pink outfit._

_-H_

“ _Heero_ ,” Trowa says, voice a low warning, still focused on the papers. Heero smirks and backspaces, removing the last sentence before hitting send. “Duo’s been a bad influence on you.”


	17. Chapter 17

Heero and Trowa are still bent over the laptop and files when the others return. Trowa had ordered room service shortly after Heero had sent the note to Noin, and they hear someone trip over the dishes stacked outside the door awaiting pick-up. Heero tilts his head. “Quatre,” he guesses.

“Wufei,” Trowa counters. Heero smirks a bit at the mental image and Trowa makes another note on the file. “Yeung should be fine,” he says. “She was part of the Alliance, but wasn’t stationed anywhere we hit.”

The door opens and Duo stumbles in, laughing. “You can’t blame me for that,” he exclaims.

“I’ll never understand the custom of leaving dishes on the floor for others to collect,” Wufei grumbles. Trowa ducks his head, shooting Heero a sly grin before controlling his face once more. Heero shakes his head, nudging Trowa lightly with his elbow.

Quatre follows them in, unwinding the multicolored scarf from his neck. He looks up, spotting Heero and Trowa at the table. “How’s it going?” he asks.

“Seems pretty straight forward. I don’t think the guests will be an issue,” Heero replies. “Noin’s trying to get a staff list now.”

“Maybe Zechs is overreacting,” Quatre suggests.

“Or being dead has made him crazier,” Duo adds. “Hey, do I have to remind you all that he wanted to blow up Earth?”

“People do crazy things for their beliefs,” Wufei replies. He sits down at the table, arms crossed, and glances at the files in front of Trowa. “Need help?”

“We’re almost done,” Heero says. “Thanks.” Wufei shrugs in response.

“Are you sure it’s smart to do this alone?” Quatre asks. He sits down on the end of one of the beds and plays with the scarf absently. “One of us should go as well.”

“Well, Wufei’s out,” Duo says. He flops into the seat near Heero and begins ticking off his fingers as he speaks. “I mean, we _could_ send him, but if there are Preventers there I’m sure they’ll wonder why their recent…guest…is now working Relena Darlian’s security team.”

“Fair enough, I could go instead.”

“Oh, sure,” Duo scoffs, holding up a second finger. “Then everyone will be wondering how the Winner heir got to Brussels and why he was working a security job. Face it Quat, you’re too recognizable.”

Wufei settles more comfortably into his chair, listening as Duo gets into full swing. Heero glances at Trowa, eyebrows raised in question. Trowa shakes his head slightly and Heero shrugs in response.

“I could be a guest,” Quatre protests.

“Right, last minute addition who decided to fly down just for a party? Even a private shuttle is still a long trip from L4 – they aren’t built like a Gundam.”

“I _know_ that, Duo.”

“So that leaves me and Trowa. Noin said a lot of Preventers are made up of former OZ, and guess who was undercover with OZ? I’m sure there will be questions about his miraculous reappearance. And, like I’ve said multiple times, I’m only contracted with Preventers for sweeper work, officially. I shouldn’t be working security at events.” He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “Looks like Heero’s flying solo on this little escapade.”

“Actually,” Trowa says, “we already told Noin I’d be working with Heero.”

\--

“If you ask me, which no one has, mind you, I think this whole thing is asking for trouble,” Duo states twenty minutes later. He shuffles a deck of cards mindlessly. Heero frowns at him from over the laptop screen. “Yeah, yeah, glare all you want, but I can count ten ways this can go bottom’s up _right now_. First and foremost – you two were part of OZ’s super special mobile suit program, I’m sure _someone_ will remember that.”

“Are you going to deal or sit there shuffling all night?” Wufei demands.

“Hold your horses,” Duo grumbles. “Quat, you in?” he calls. Quatre holds up a finger, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear as he sits on the bed, scribbling notes on the hotel pad. Duo sighs loudly. “What about you two?”

“Research,” Heero replies, eyes glued to the screen once more.

Trowa shakes his head and looks over at Wufei and Duo. “What are you playing?”

“Ratshit,” Duo replies. “It’s pretty simple once you start playing. _If_ we start playing.”

“You _could_ deal,” Wufei replies. He slouches slightly against the back of the dining chair.

“I only want to explain it once,” Duo protests. “If it requires this much research then it’s a bad idea, mark my words.”

“Barton and Yuy survived a war, I’m sure they can manage a party,” Wufei snorts. “They might die of boredom but they’re dignitaries, not soldiers.”

“Sure,” Duo agrees amiably. He gestures at Trowa and Heero. “We have Mr. Trigger-Happy and Mr. Borderline-Suicidal. Sure, what could go wrong?” Heero frowns at Duo but Trowa looks more amused than annoyed. Duo shrugs. “Look, I thought we were supposed to be laying low.”

“Your concern is noted but we’ll be fine,” Heero states, returning to the computer screen.

“Okay,” Quatre says, hanging up. He leaves the phone on top of the pad of paper and takes a seat at the dining table across from Trowa. “How do we play?”

“I’ll deal us seven cards, Trowa, you’re in, right?” Trowa nods and Duo snaps the deck before beginning to deal. “I flip this card over and that’s our trump card,” he pauses as he flips the card over, “spades.

“Trowa’s up first since Heero’s busy with whatever over there. You can lay down whatever card you want for this trick and we have to match the suit. If we can’t then we can play a card from the trump suit. Highest trick suit wins _unless_ there’s a trump card. Then highest trump card wins. Whoever wins the trick starts off the next one. Simple, right?” He looks around the table expectantly.

Quatre frowns, looking confused, but Wufei nods. “Sounds like Whist,” he says.

“We called it Scrounge,” Trowa replies. He lays down a nine of diamonds.

Quatre is still frowning at his cards. “Can we go over the rules again?” he asks.

\--

It takes two hands for them to realize Quatre is either a quick learner or was playing them all at the start. He blinks innocently at them as he collects the latest trick he’s won. “Beginner’s luck?” he suggests, fighting a smile as Duo groans loudly.

Heero mostly tunes them out, pulling up Wagner and Meyer’s personnel records and skimming the details. He studies the photos attached to their files, trying to place their faces. They worked in control while in OZ, so it is possible that they knew his face. It’s also more than likely that they’ll know Trowa’s. He frowns, glancing at Trowa next to him. Trowa isn’t paying him any attention, studying the cards in his hand instead.

“Not that one,” he says. He leans in and taps the queen of clubs instead. “This one.”

“Hey! No helping!” Duo protests.

Wufei sighs as he lays down his ten of clubs and Trowa collects the trick. “Have your people chosen a departure date?”

“Yes,” Quatre replies. He frowns at the cards. “That’s what Rashid was telling me. Forecasts are calling for a large snowstorm to come in sometime January 1st. Auda did some recon and learned that a lot of the local transports are heading out early on the first to avoid the storm. He thinks that will be a good time to move the Gundams.”

Wufei nods, laying down his card. “Sounds like it would make sense,” he agrees. “Will you be traveling with them?”

Quatre shakes his head. “I would, but I need to get back to the colonies. I’ll rejoin them in a month or so, once they’ve made it to the base.” He plays his next card before settling back in the dining chair.

“The Gundams will be safe with them?”

“They will,” Quatre replies, looking up to meet Wufei’s stare. Wufei nods once.

“Will they mind an extra passenger?”

“Running off so soon?” Duo asks. He shoots a narrow-eyed, suspicious look at Trowa and Heero. “Are you helping him again?”

“Hm?” Heero asks as Trowa collects another trick. Duo’s eyes narrow further in response.

“I’m sure they won’t mind having a Gundam pilot with them,” Quatre answers Wufei. “I can contact Rashid in the morning. He’s asked for us to go check on them anyway before transport.”

Wufei nods. “Thank you.”

\--

Heero rolls over, feeling restless in the quasi-silence. The card game had ended an hour ago, with Quatre claiming victory and Duo claiming Trowa had been given an unfair advantage. Wufei had been the first to drop off to sleep, reading the book he’d picked up at the museum before dozing off. Quatre had quickly followed, his snuffling breaths changing into the now-familiar snores. Duo had been the last to succumb to sleep, channel flipping and drifting off during some action movie.

He and Trowa had looked over the notes another time before turning in themselves. In spite of Duo’s worries, it _was_ an easy assignment compared to some of the missions they’d pulled during the War. Heero sighs, turning over again and studying Trowa’s back once more.

Trowa’s breathing is deep and even, but the tension in his shoulders belie the fact that he’s still awake. He lets his eyes wander over Trowa’s back, tracing the old burn along his ribcage and what looks like an old bullet wound near his right scapula.

“Trowa,” he says, voice pitched low. “Go to sleep.”

Trowa is still for a moment before he sighs and twists around to face Heero. “I’m supposed to tell you that,” he says, voice matching Heero’s.

“If you’re still thinking about that nightmare-”

“What will you do when this is over?” Trowa interrupts. Trowa meets his gaze, genuinely curious. “Do you think you’ll sign-on to Preventers? Or Relena’s security detail?”

Heero frowns, considering. “I have to see to Zero.”

“After that,” Trowa presses. “What do you want to do?”

Heero shrugs as best he can while lying on his side. “I guess just go where I’m needed.” Trowa stares at him, quiet and expectant, and Heero distracts himself tracing a silvery scar cutting across Trowa’s shoulder and collarbone. He wonders what caused it. “This is what I know, Trowa. I told you, I’ve never been good at staying in one place.”

Trowa frowns at him. “You don’t have to go looking for battles either,” he counters.

“There’s no circus waiting for me, Trowa,” Heero replies. “I am _not_ a performer.”

Trowa is still frowning at him, but he sighs and tugs the blanket up higher. “You know you’d be welcome.” Heero glances at him sharply and he can just make out Trowa’s smirk. “I might even convince Cathy _not_ to make soup.”

Heero stifles a snort and gives Trowa a light kick. “Now _I’m_ going to have nightmares about that so-called soup. Go to sleep,” he groans.

He lies awake, listening as Trowa’s breathing turns slow and even. He’s still awake an hour or so later when Trowa reaches out and, half asleep, thumps him in the side of the head with his hand. “Follow your own advice,” Trowa grumbles.

Heero rolls his eyes, batting Trowa’s wayward hand back to his side of the bed. He yawns, turning over onto his stomach and drifting off.


	18. Chapter 18

Heero wakes in the gray area between night and dawn. He lies in bed, listening to the sounds in the room and hallway beyond. He turns his head, studying Trowa in the pale light. Trowa’s face is relaxed in sleep, hair mussed and falling lopsided over one half of his face. His fingertips brush the brown strands before he realizes he’s reached out. He frowns, pulling his hand back.

Trowa’s eyes are open and watching him.

“Sorry,” he says.

Trowa shrugs, the duvet shifting with the movement. Heero’s eyes catch on the brief flash of Trowa’s bare shoulder before he readjusts the comforter so that he’s cocooned once more. “Did you sleep?” he asks.

“A few hours,” Heero replies. He turns over so that he’s fully facing Trowa. “I’ve been thinking.” He pauses and Trowa raises his eyebrows expectantly. “The blizzard.”

Trowa nods. “It would provide good cover.”

“It might cause another distraction for Quatre’s people to move your Gundams.”

Trowa studies him and Heero forces himself to remain still under the scrutiny. “Nothing reckless,” he says. Heero offers him a smirk and Trowa shakes his head. He scrubs a hand over his face and lets out a low groan. “If you get injured I’m leaving your ass in the hospital.”

“Just try,” Heero replies. Trowa’s hands are still over his face, but Heero’s eighty-five percent certain he catches a smile. “It’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you say before everything goes to hell.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Trowa lets his hands fall away and his face is surprisingly serious. Heero shifts, fingers sliding over the gun under his pillow absently. “Yes,” he says.

Heero nods and they lay there quietly for a time. Heero can hear the muffled sound of traffic beginning to start up outside. Quatre inhales sharply, coughs, and then settles into his regular snoring pattern.

“My shuttle is tomorrow evening,” Trowa says. “I could reschedule.”

Heero shakes his head. He shifts, releasing the gun and looks at the ceiling. “Don’t do that. I’m sure you’re ready to go home.” He can feel Trowa watching him still. “I’m going to grab a shower before everyone wakes up.”

“I’ll change the bandages when you’re done,” Trowa says finally. Heero nods and rolls out of bed, grabbing his clothes and heading to the bathroom. Trowa settles back on the mattress and stares up at the ceiling. A few minutes later he hears the shower start up.

\--

After breakfast they make their way to the makeshift hanger again. Duo is strangely subdued on the journey and Wufei shoots him suspicious looks along the way. Once they reach the warehouse, Rashid greets them as usual. Heero stakes out a quiet corner of the warehouse and boots up the laptop he brought in a duffle bag. He pulls up the surveillance images from the Presidential bunker while Rashid takes the others over to where their main operation is under way.

“We’re nearly prepared,” he says. He gestures at the large flatbed transport trucks. The mobile suits have been loaded in, wrapped in thick canvas and disguised with crates. “Don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves,” he adds, noticing Duo examining one of the crates.

“Course not,” Duo agrees.

“What time are you planning to head out?” Wufei questions.

Rashid turns to look at him, hands in his pockets. “You my passenger?” he asks.

“If you have room.”

Rashid looks him over and gives a sharp nod. “Always handy to have a pilot on hand,” he says. “You’re the one leaving in Prague?”

“That’s the plan.”

“We want to head out tomorrow morning, as soon as it’s light enough,” Rashid says. “The blizzard is supposed to hit around nine in the evening and I don’t want to be contending with that with rigs this size.”

Quatre nods. “We understand,” he says. “What can we do to help?”

“It’ll probably run smoother if you all maneuver your Gundams onto the trucks. You’ll know the best way to position them.”

“Sure thing,” Duo agrees, nodding.

\--

Trowa takes a seat on the ground next to Heero a couple hours later. He uses a rag to clean grease from his hands and looks at the laptop screen. “How’s Zero?”

“Looks like the south wall is coming down behind it,” Heero replies. “There was a lot of activity about twenty minutes ago.” Trowa shakes his head and leans against the wall. “Heavyarms ready for transport?”

“Yes,” Trowa agrees. “I disabled the self-destruct temporarily,” he adds. “I don’t want it going off with the Maganacs by accident.” He folds the rag and sets it to the side. “What time are we heading out?”

“Couple hours yet,” he replies.

“There you guys are!” They look up as Duo rounds the corner, Wufei and Quatre trailing him. He drops down and stretches out on the concrete. “I tell you, I’ll be happy when this is all said and done.”

“What are your plans?” Quatre asks. He takes a seat next to Trowa and peers curiously at Duo.

Duo jiggles his foot in thought. “Well, I’ll be happy to get back to the salvage yard,” he says finally. He tilts his head back and looks at them. “There’s still a lot of wreckage that needs sweeping from the War, you know?”

Quatre nods. “I’m sure,” he says.

“What about you, Quat? Heading back to your empire?”

Quatre snorts, but he’s smiling. “I suppose, in a manner of speaking,” he replies. “My sisters weren’t happy that I ran off while they were trying to teach me how to run everything.”

“You have sisters?” Duo asks. “That’s cool. Older?”

Quatre’s smile twists a little, somewhere between fond and amused. “Oh, yes. They’re older. They won’t let me forget it either.”

“I’m not sure I’d like having a sibling,” Wufei muses.

“I’m not sure you’d let them survive if they annoyed you,” Duo counters. “What are your plans, then?”

“Going to give Sally a break and sign-on?” Heero asks. He glances from the screen to Wufei.

Wufei frowns. “I haven’t decided.” Heero nods and resumes searching the Preventers database.

“You must have something in mind, or you wouldn’t be jumping ship with your Gundam in Prague,” Duo states.

Wufei shrugs and looks off toward the trucks loaded down with the Gundams. “I think it’s time to see what we fought so hard for,” he says finally.

“Careful, that sounds borderline sentimental.”

“Shut-up, Maxwell.”

Quatre turns to Trowa with a friendly smile. “Going back to the circus after this?”

Next to him, Heero’s typing stutters before resuming normal speed. Trowa gives him a quick glance, but he’s focused on the screen in front of him. Trowa turns his attention back to Quatre and gives him a nod. “I booked a flight for tomorrow. Hopefully the storm won’t impact it.”

“Let me guess, Heero’s decided to join Relena’s security detail,” Duo says. He tilts his head to look at Heero. “Would explain tonight’s escapade.” Heero remains silent, attention captured by whatever he’s looking at on the laptop screen.

“I don’t see Yuy working security,” Wufei says finally.

Heero remains silent and Duo lets out a loud groan. “Whenever he gets this way it always ends badly,” he warns.

\--

Quatre, Wufei, and Duo are still working with the Maganacs on last minute details when Heero and Trowa make their way from the warehouse to the Hotel Amigo around four in the afternoon. It takes an hour to make it across town from the warehouses, between public transit and the steady snowfall.

An older man opens the hotel room door and Trowa assumes this is Pagan. The sitting room is small and seems filled with people, though only a handful are present. Noin and Relena are off to one side speaking with head’s bowed. Zechs is speaking to a woman Trowa recognizes as the head of Relena’s security team.

“You must be Mr. Barton,” the old man says. Trowa nods, surprised and the man smiles. “I am Pagan, I serve Miss Relena. Lieutenant Noin mentioned you would be joining her security tonight. I’ve laid out the suit in there for you,” he explains, gesturing to a door.

“Go on,” Heero instructs. He hitches the duffle higher on his good shoulder. “I’ll check in with Zechs.”

The door leads to an overly large bathroom. Trowa takes his time washing the grease residue off his hands before turning to look at the garment bag hanging on a coat rack. He unzips it and changes carefully into the black suit and tie. He replaces the suit with his own clothes and rezips the bag. He rejoins the rest of the group as the head of security finishes speaking with Heero and Zechs. She gives him a nod as she strides past him and out the door.

Heero is staring at him and Trowa raises an eyebrow curiously. “Everything alright?” he asks, stepping over to Zechs and Heero.

“Fine,” Heero replies. “Zechs just sent Descartes to get some weapons for us.” He disappears into the bathroom to change and Trowa takes up position along one of the walls.

“I remember seeing you on Peacemillion, but I don’t believe we’ve officially met yet.” He glances down and sees Relena standing next to him. She extends a hand and a warm smile. “I’m Relena Darlian.”

Trowa studies the girl for a moment. She’s dressed in some type of dark blue gown, her hair pinned back with the type of sparkly clips Cathy loves. She raises an eyebrow at him and he takes her hand, giving it a firm shake. “Trowa Barton,” he replies. He figures it would come across rude if he told her he already knew who she was.

Relena’s smile widens as he releases her hand. “Oh, you’re the one who went missing,” she says. Trowa gives her a bewildered look and she glances around surreptitiously. They’re alone for the moment, he can see Noin and Zechs quietly arguing over something through an open doorway and Heero is still changing. “During the War, Heero came to Sanc to ask Pagan to try and locate you.”

“Pagan?” he asks.

She gestures to the older man calmly making tea across the room, mistaking his surprise for confusion. “He’s been with the family forever. He’s usually very good at information gathering,” she answers. “But I guess you were hiding pretty well at the time.”

“Something like that,” he agrees, hands in his pockets. He hesitates, but his curiosity wins out. “Is Pagan the reason you were able to track Heero to Antarctica?”

Relena grins at him. “Were you there as well?” she asks. “Yes, Pagan was able to track a few suspicious communications which led us to Antarctica.” A door clicks open and he looks over automatically. Heero exits the bathroom, dressed in the same dark suit that Trowa is, though it looks like it fits better. Even more surprising, he’s switched the yellow sneakers for normal shoes. “He can clean up nice, huh?” Relena muses.

Trowa glances at her, but she isn’t looking at him. He shrugs. “Just not used to seeing him in clothes not covered in blood,” he states drily.

“Just so you know,” she says, voice pitched low. She is looking at him now, eyes hard even though she’s still smiling. “He was worried about you. I don’t think he’d have come to Pagan if he wasn’t.”

Trowa frowns, not sure how to respond. He’s saved from having to answer by Heero joining them. “Relena,” he states.

“Heero,” she replies. She matches his serious tone, but her eyes are laughing again, and it’s suddenly obvious how she’s succeeded in politics despite her young age. “Thank you for indulging my paranoid brother. Trowa, it was nice to officially meet you.”

She crosses the room to Pagan, taking one of the cups of tea he made. Heero turns to Trowa. “I put your clothes in the duffle bag, hope you don’t mind.”

“Probably easier so they won’t be forgotten,” Trowa agrees. He reaches out, fingers curling around the silk tie around Heero’s throat. Heero stills while Trowa fixes the knot. “It was crooked.”

“Thanks,” Heero replies. There’s an odd note to his voice that Trowa can’t place. He’s still watching Trowa and Trowa lets his hands drop back to his sides.

“Tea, boys?” Relena calls. “Or are you two busy discussing security things?”

Heero, who Trowa knows will only drink tea if it is the last option available, turns and accepts Relena’s offer. Trowa feels his eyebrows raise in surprise before he schools his face into impassiveness once more. He trails Heero over to where Relena and Pagan are standing.

“We should head out in thirty minutes,” Heero states. “It’s still snowing.”

Relena nods, stirring her tea. “Milliardo isn’t going to be happy at being left behind.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have gone for world domination then,” Trowa replies. Heero snorts while Relena frowns at her tea. “What do you think of these threats?”

Relena shrugs and moves to a red brocade sofa. “I’m sure they should be taken seriously, but I think they’re being blown out of proportion,” she replies, sitting down. “They aren’t even at me. They’ve been primarily directed to President Veertig.”

“And you’re foolish enough to accept his invitation to a New Year’s Eve party,” Zechs says, reentering the room. He waves off Pagan when he holds out a cup of tea.

“If I didn’t, it’d be seen as a snub,” Relena retorts.

“You were nearly killed a few days ago. I’m sure Veertig would be able to understand _that_.”

“Might as well enjoy the show,” Noin murmurs as she joins them. “They’ll be going at it for hours if we let them. You’d never know they didn’t grow up together.” She takes the cup of tea Pagan hands her and sighs. “It’ll be a long night.”


	19. Chapter 19

Descartes returns as they are getting ready to leave. She shoos the others out of the room with a stern look. “Alright,” she says, setting a bag down on the dining table. “Here are your ear pieces, and the microphone wire. Run it down your sleeve so you can handle the switch easily.” She hands them each a small case with the wires and communicators.

“We don’t want anything attention-getting. If there’s an issue, try non-lethal methods first.” She hands them each a taser and pepper spray. “Of course, what we want and what we get aren’t always the same things. Colonel Zechs says you two can be trusted.” She eyes them both. “I’ve known his judgement to be impaired on occasion, let’s hope this isn’t one such time.”

“You served with him?” Trowa asks.

“Yes,” she replies. “For almost a year. Good judge of character – mostly. Now, here are your sidearms.” She hands them each a shoulder holster with a handgun. “They’re already loaded, and I managed to get additional ammunition for you. Shoot to disable, not kill, unless the threat is imminent. The Vice Foreign Minister feels strongly about loss of life.”

“Not a fan of that policy, I take it,” Heero comments.

“If you need to pull the trigger then you need to pull the trigger. Not going for the kill is just asking for trouble down the road.” She shakes her head and sets down two knives. “These are useful if you’re aiming for discretion. This thing will be full of stuffed suits who are already feeling fragile after the attempted revolution. Anything we can do not to draw attention to ourselves will be a bonus.”

She exhales and hands them each a bag of extra ammunition. “I doubt we’ll need all of these, but it never hurts to be prepared.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Heero agrees.

She nods sharply. “I’ll leave you to get ready and check in with the Colonel and Lieutenant.” She gives them one last lingering look before heading into the sitting room.

“Well,” Trowa says. “These are fairly useless.” Heero glances at him and sees that he’s set the pepper spray and taser aside. Trowa reaches for the bag, emptying the extra magazines onto the table to inspect. “I take it you brought your own gun?”

“Of course,” Heero replies. He checks the magazine, counts the seventeen rounds in it, plus the one already chambered. He checks the bag and pulls out the four extra magazines. “Here,” he says, tossing two of them to Trowa. Trowa looks up, eyebrows raised. “You go through ammunition faster.”

“It’s quicker my way,” Trowa replies.

“And you call me reckless.” Heero shrugs out of his jacket and dons the shoulder holster, making sure it fits well under his arm. “What?” he asks, catching Trowa watching him.

“You never told me you looked for me,” Trowa says. Heero glances at him sharply, catching the flash of surprise on Trowa’s face as though he hadn’t expected to say that. “After the Vayeate was destroyed.”

Heero snorts. “ _Relena,_ ” he mutters. He meets Trowa’s stare evenly. “Of course I did,” he says. Trowa’s still looking at him and Heero raises his eyebrows, shifting under the scrutiny. “What?” he repeats.

Trowa’s quiet for a long moment, still staring at him. “How does the holster feel with the bandage?” Trowa asks finally. His eyes drop to the leather holster and strap.

“Not great,” Heero admits. He rolls his shoulders before putting the knife belt on. “I’ve never been a fan of them.”

Trowa nods. “Too restricting,” he agrees. He glances up at the archway behind Heero. “Zechs.”

Heero glances over his shoulder and nods at Zechs. Zechs steps into the entranceway and looks over the supplies Descartes had left them. “Pepper spray?” he questions, picking up and examining the canister.

“Apparently Relena has something against lethal force,” Heero comments. Zechs rolls his eyes and drops the canister in the bag Descartes had left behind. “Relena doesn’t think the threats are against her.”

“Relena is still a child in a lot of ways,” Zechs replies.

Trowa raises his eyebrows but remains silent as he adjusts his own shoulder holster. He gives a couple of bends and stretches to test the flexibility and frowns at the limited range his shoulders have now. Heero catches his expression and he sees the quick flash of understanding reflected in Heero’s eyes.

“What makes you think they’re legitimate?” Heero asks.

Zechs frowns, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that they’re still alone. “It was intercepted before it reached her, but someone sent her a dead and bloodied dove. Lady Une is looking into it.”

“Could have been trying to scare her,” Trowa points out. “You said yourself that the guest list checked out.”

“It’s not necessarily the guests I’m worried about.”

Noin appears in the doorway. “Ready?” she asks when they look up. Unlike Relena, she’s dressed in a more conservative suit the same dark color as her eyes. “Descartes wants to get a move on.”

“Yeah,” Heero agrees. Noin nods and disappears back into the sitting room. Heero pulls his jacket back on and Trowa finishes stowing the extra magazines in his jacket pockets. “What’s Noin’s take?”

“She thinks it’s a scare tactic,” he replies. “Relena’s influence is swaying others to pardon Mariemaia Khushrenada and there are certain people who would rather she step down from that position.”

Trowa frowns, considering. “She may be right. Public opinion of Relena is still good; plus they’d have to know her security would be tightened after the abduction.”

Noin returns with Relena and Descartes in tow. Zechs stares at Relena for a moment. “You don’t have to attend, Veertig would be more than happy to recount your harrowing ordeal.”

She gives him a small smile. “You’re worrying for nothing,” she says. She hugs him briefly before stepping back. “I’ll be fine.”

\--

The party is held at Chateau Bellevue, President Veertig’s country house, since the bunker is still under investigation. The house is thirty minutes by car outside of Brussels, one of those antiquated pre-colonial ones of brick and slate. The front is covered in creeping ivy which Trowa imagines would be lovely in the spring, though now it is brown and brittle from cold and ice.

They arrive shortly after eight and are inspected by the President’s security team before being shown to the party occupying the right wing of the house. The politicians and dignitaries are gathered in the large, wood paneled ballroom and the champagne has clearly been free flowing for quite some time.

Descartes gives them both a look before she begins patrolling the sidelines. Trowa stakes out a quiet corner of the ornate ballroom, a few feet down from another personal guard. He has a good view of the south side of the room and can make out Heero taking a similar position further down. By his count there are around eighty of the ESUN’s elite gathered and at least double that in personal guards or Preventers agents.

He recognizes a few faces, mostly from news conferences and mission dossiers. He tries to pick out Wagner or Meyer from the sea of faces. Relena and Noin circulate the room, pausing to chat at each pocket of politicians they encounter. His eyes flick around and he pauses at the flash of long blonde hair. The girl’s back is to him, but he recognizes the nearly white hair from Libra. She’s standing toward the sidelines, near an alcove, and it takes him a moment to recognize that she’s speaking with Lady Une. He returns his eyes to Relena and Noin, monitoring their progress. When he looks back ten minutes later, Lady Une is speaking with Wagner.

Trowa remembers him from the Lunar Base. He had been quiet, unassuming, never one to earn the Colonel’s ire. He had even managed to stay out of Tsubarov’s way, from what Trowa recalls. It made sense that Wagner would be welcomed into Preventers after his service during the War. There weren’t many soldiers who had been able to balance both facets of Une’s personality.

Wagner has his head bent, listening intently to whatever Une is saying to him. After a few minutes Wagner gives a curt nod and cuts across the ballroom. The lighter haired Meyer falls into step with him and the two disappear out one of the archways into the hallway. Trowa debates following them, ultimately deciding against blowing his cover. He looks to where he last saw Heero, checking to see if he noticed the former OZ soldiers as well. Heero is in conversation with the same blonde-haired girl that had been speaking with Une and Trowa frowns.

\--

Heero feels that itch under his skin again. The one that says he’s should be doing something, but he isn’t sure what. He watches servers move nimbly through the crowds, topping off glasses of champagne and refilling hors d’oeuvres trays. He keeps his eyes on Relena as she makes the rounds, smiling and chatting.

“Heero Yuy. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Dorothy,” he states. He glances at her and she’s smiling. It’s a curious cross of feral and genuine pleasure. “I’m surprised you’re still invited to these things.”

“Oh, please,” Dorothy laughs. A few heads turn and Dorothy stares them down coolly until they go back to their conversations. She leans against the wall next to him, disregarding the dark silk gown she’s wearing, and examines her fingernails. “Duke Dermail’s name is still powerful enough that no one would dare slight his granddaughter.”

“Duke Dermail is dead.”

“Indeed,” she agrees. Her tone is bland and he gives her a sharp look, however her expression is also impassive. She takes a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sips it. “At least they aren’t skimping on the good champagne. Isn’t security work a bit mundane for you?”

“I hear you led the civilian uprising.” Heero lets his eyes wander around the ballroom though he keeps his attention on Dorothy. Relena has reached President Veertig and her face has taken on the neutral, pleasant expression he remembers from her Queen of the World days.

“Well, we couldn’t let anything happen to Miss Relena, now could we?” she questions. “Poor dear is suffering enough having to work with Veertig.” She gestures to the room with the hand holding the champagne. “Isn’t this just positively ostentatious?”

“Not taking the threats seriously?” Heero asks.

Dorothy laughs again but this time they’re ignored. “Oh, I’m sure they’re very serious, and they make Veertig feel _so_ important.” She meets his eyes and raises her eyebrows. “He has half of Preventers here, yet I haven’t seen one protestor, have you?”

“Do you think he made the threats himself?”

“He’s not intelligent enough for that.” She pauses, takes a long sip from her glass. “Though I doubt he’d do it anyway. The poor fool really does want peace.”

“And what do you want, Dorothy?” Heero asks. He turns away from her again, surveying the crowd once more.

“We all know that doesn’t matter,” she replies, voice quiet. She pushes off from the wall and sets her empty glass down on the marble pedestal of a statue. “Looks like they’re finally feeding us, hopefully you won’t be too bored with the dinner talk.”

\--

“Who was that?” Trowa asks, voice quiet and curious.

They had foregone following Relena into the dining room, instead joining some of the other guards out on the balcony overlooking the snow-covered gardens. They move away from the groups smoking and chatting, finding a quiet spot that’s sheltered from the wind with sightlines to both the over-sized dining room windows and the large marble stairs leading down to the grounds.

“Dorothy Catalonia,” Heero replies.

“So that’s Treize Khushrenada’s cousin,” Trowa muses. “You know her?”

Heero crosses his arms and watches the dining room proceedings through the window. “She was a student in Sanc when Quatre and I were there.”

“She’s the one who stabbed Quatre on Libra.”

“Is she? Quatre never said who did it.” Heero shrugs. “How many Preventers would you estimate are here?”

Trowa glances at him, eyebrows raised. Heero is still studying the windows though and Trowa hums, thinking. “I counted three in the guard house, ten around the perimeter, five in the entrance hall, and maybe ten in the ballroom. Counting Une and Noin...” He frowns. “That’s thirty.”

“Awful large presence for a clandestine intelligence agency,” Heero agrees.

“Especially with so many personal guards,” Trowa replies. He mirrors Heero’s position, arms crossed over his chest and studying the guests enjoying their meals. “If there is a plot, this isn’t the target.”

“No,” Heero agrees. “But somebody wanted to make sure Preventers thought it would be.”

Trowa tilts his head back, studying the snow-heavy clouds above. “Think they’re going for the crash site?”

“Possibly, but I doubt Une would leave that unsecured. Every time I’ve visited there have been perimeter guards. Zero’s in no shape to be moved either, unless they bring in a truck.”

“And then what would they do with it?”

Trowa shakes his head and looks around the balcony. They watch as the security guards get to their feet, jokes and talk dying away as they make their way back inside. A few minutes later they’re left alone on the balcony. Inside, dinner is in full swing. Trowa can see Relena chatting with one of the ambassadors from the colonies, Venditto, he thinks the name is.

“It’s never easy, is it?” Trowa asks once they’re alone.

“We’d be out of a job if it were,” Heero comments.

Trowa huffs a soft laugh. “I wasn’t aware we were being paid for this.” He rubs his hands together, warming them up in the cold air. “Wagner and Meyer left while you were chatting to the Catalonia girl.”

“You saw them?”

“Wagner spoke with Une before they took off.”

Heero is quiet next to him. “Well,” he says finally, “I guess that’s one less thing to worry about.”

“I hate to say it, but Duo may have been right about this whole thing.”

Heero glares at him. “ _Don’t_ let him hear you say that. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I’m sure he’s already ready to say _I told you so_ ,” Trowa points out. He smirks as Heero elbows him sharply, but doesn’t deny that he’s probably right. "It's sad when you start missing the simplicity of war."


	20. Chapter 20

Noin looks up as Trowa enters the dining room. He inclines his head toward the hall and she gives a small nod in return. Trowa steps into the hall and a moment later Noin joins him. “Problem?” she asks, voice low.

“Maybe,” he replies. He leads the way to the study Heero had commandeered when they had returned to the mansion. Heero looks up as Trowa closes the door behind them.

“What is it?” Noin asks.

“Relena isn’t the target,” Heero states. Noin raises her eyebrows and Heero gestures to a paper on the desk. “It’s a rough estimate, but we calculated the number of Preventers and personal security here. Short of blowing up the entire building, which Preventers swept for already, it would be suicide coming here.”

“Plus, there hasn’t been any sightings of protestors,” Trowa adds. Noin picks up the paper from the desk, skimming the figures they had come up with.

“So it was just some elaborate ruse?”

“Or something else.” Noin looks up, meeting Heero’s eyes. “A diversion.”

“The crash site,” she guesses. “It’s not possible to get to the Gundam; Lady Une has it under 24/7 surveillance and armed guard.”

“There is another option,” Trowa comments. He pauses as the other two look at him. “Mariemaia’s still in the hospital?”

Noin shakes her head, rubbing at her temples. “You think someone went through all of this trouble to assassinate a _seven-year-old_?” she demands.

“It would get rid of the issue at the source,” Trowa replies.

“Or, it might be someone from her rebellion trying to liberate her.” Noin stares at the paper again and Heero shares a look with Trowa. “You said it yourself, Preventers is stretched thin right now. With everyone worried about the aristocrats, who’s going to care about a little girl?”

“Shit,” Noin groans. “I can’t leave Relena, if we’re wrong…”

“Understood.”

Trowa pushes off from the door he’d been leaning against. “You stay with Relena, tell Zechs what’s up, and Une. She might be able to pull some strings at the hospital or give the warning.”

“And you two?”

Heero shrugs. “We’ll go check things out.”

“It’s forty-five minutes in good weather to the hospital from here,” Noin protests. “How will you get there? I don’t think Descartes will lend you the car.”

“We’ll worry about that,” Trowa replies.

“Noin,” Heero calls. Noin looks over at him. “Don’t tell Relena what’s up. She’ll want to get involved.”

\--

Trowa nods to the three men chatting in the parking loop. The men nod back before returning to their cigarettes and conversation. “Fucking cold night, eh?” one of them asks. He’s older than the other two and Trowa pegs him as the leader of the small group.

“I’ve had colder,” Trowa comments.

“Yeah?” another man asks. “Well I was stationed down south with the Alliance. Sand, surf, and plenty of sun. And girls in bikinis. Hell, it really was paradise.”

“We’ve heard it a hundred times, Daan. Maybe you shouldn’t have screwed the commander’s wife, eh? Then you’d still be in the land of sun,” the first man laughs. Daan glares and flips him off. “You one of the suits’ hires?”

“Yes, first assignment,” Trowa replies. He hesitates, glances around the empty driveway. “Couple of the guys got their hands on some good cognac, said Veertig’s in a generous mood.”

The third man looks at him suspiciously. “Yeah?” He steps closer, eyeing Trowa up and down. “You serve?”

“OZ, Lunar Base.”

“Lunar Base, huh? Under Lady Loon herself?” the third one asks. He shakes his head and inhales deeply. “And people wonder how the Earth lost the War. All they have to do is take a look at who was in charge.”

“Shut-up, Eriksson,” the first one snaps. He looks at Trowa. “Cognac, eh?” he comments.

Trowa nods, slides his hands into his pockets. “The suits are at dinner so no one will notice, according to Venditto’s guard.”

“Olivieri?” Daan asks. “He knows the good liquor.” Daan looks at Eriksson and the older man. “One sip of cognac would warm us up, yeah?”

The older man rubs at his chin, squinting into the dark. “Ah, hell, why not?” he says. “The guard house is manned and it’s a damn quiet night anyway. I could use a drink.” He stomps his feet, loosening the snow and ice caked on his shoes. “Come on, kid, time to partake in the perks of the job. God alone knows they’re rare enough.”

Trowa trails the three men for a few meters before he catches sight of Heero in the shadows between two cars. He slows, letting the men pull ahead. When it’s evident that they’ve forgotten him he changes direction and joins Heero. Heero turns, leading him a couple of cars down to a dark colored sports car.

“Subtle,” Trowa comments.

“Fast,” Heero replies. He opens the driver’s door while Trowa climbs into the passenger seat. Heero pulls the door shut behind him, reaching under the steering column to pull the wires free. “What did you tell them?”

“Free cognac.” Trowa opens the glove compartment, rifling through the papers curiously. The car starts and Heero sits back, shifting nimbly into gear. “The guardhouse?”

“Taken care of,” Heero states. Trowa looks at him, eyebrow raised, and Heero shrugs. He nods toward the lit guardhouse as they pass it. “They’ll live; they’ll just have a headache.”

“That’ll go over well.”

“Une can handle it,” Heero replies. He pulls out onto the main road and hits the gas, grin widening as it picks up speed. “What?” he asks, catching sight of Trowa’s expression.

Trowa is still smiling as he shakes his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying yourself.” He adjusts the seat, leaning back and watching the dark trees speed past.

“Oh, before I forget…” Heero tosses him a phone. “Call the others and let them know.”

Trowa dials Quatre’s number, listens to it ring, hangs up and calls again. On the third try the line connects though the other end is silent. “Quatre,” he says.

“Trowa?” Quatre asks. Trowa puts the phone on speaker, holding it between Heero and himself. “What’s going on?”

“ _I told you it was a bad idea_ ,” Duo’s voice comes faintly through the line.

“Change of plans, we don’t think the politicians were a legitimate target,” Trowa states. “Too much security for too little activity.”

Quatre’s voice turns echo-y and Trowa knows they’re on speaker now. “The crash site?” he asks. “Someone going after Heero’s Gundam?”

“We considered it,” Heero states. “Zero’s proximity sensors haven’t alerted to anything and Une has the place secure. There’s no way they’d be able to extract Zero from the bunker either.”

“So what does that leave us with?” Duo asks. “If they don’t want the crazy Gundam and they don’t want to cause political upheaval, then what?”

“A prank?” Quatre suggests.

“Mariemaia.”

Heero takes a turn too fast, the wheels sliding before he’s able to correct it again. “Was that Wufei?”

“Yes,” Wufei says. “You’re thinking it has something to do with Treize’s daughter.”

“The kid?” Duo asks, voice surprised. “Shit, what did I tell you guys? Bad idea, it was there in neon letters and everything.”

“We’re on the way to the hospital now,” Trowa cuts in. “Noin is alerting Une.”

“We’ll head over as well,” Quatre says. “We’re closer and can stake it out.”

“You need to contact Rashid, get the Gundams moved out now,” Heero instructs. “If something does go down then Preventers will descend even stronger and there will be no moving them then.”

“We’ll need to send someone with the Gundams, just in case. That means we’ll be down one if something happens,” Quatre protests. “We don’t even know what the plan is.”

“Or if there _is_ a plan,” Duo interjects.

“Wufei, you were part of the Barton Rebellion longer than Trowa. Was there anyone who would be interested in going after Mariemaia?”

The line is quiet for a moment. “Krusiec was Dekim’s right hand,” Wufei says finally. “If he’s still around then he could be plotting something. I’m sure Barton remembers him.”

Heero glances at Trowa and sees him nod. “I do,” Trowa agrees. “I didn’t have much interaction with him though.”

“You wouldn’t,” Wufei states.

“Geeze, how involved were you in this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Heero says. “We should be there in twenty minutes, whatever intel you can gain before then would be appreciated.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Duo grumbles. “Do me a favor, yeah? Next time you go to a fancy party bring back a bottle of champagne not a terrorist plot.”

“We’ll handle it,” Quatre promises. “I’ll call once we know anything.”

The line disconnects and Trowa rubs at his temples. “We’re going in blind.”

“Not the first time,” Heero replies.

“No, it isn’t,” Trowa agrees. He shifts in his seat, half-turns to watch Heero. “We’re betting a lot on it actually being the hospital and not the crash site.”

“We are,” Heero agrees. “When I visited her at the hospital there was an attempted bombing earlier that day.”

Trowa frowns at him. “You didn’t mention that.”

“It didn’t seem necessary at the time.” He shifts gears and taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “It happened before I got there. Tell me about Krusiec.”

“Wufei covered it. He was Dekim’s right-hand man. Dekim gave the orders and Krusiec enforced them.”

“And before the war, was he in favor then?”

The corner of Trowa’s mouth twitches. “He was another mechanic, but he worked in a separate area. He was the first to get suspicious of Trowa Barton’s disappearance.” Heero nods. “I guess after the failed Operation Meteor he rose in esteem.”

“Seems so. Will Quatre contact Rashid?”

“Yes,” Trowa replies. “He won’t risk the Maganacs or the Gundams.”

“Good.”

The city limits come into view ahead and Trowa glances at the speedometer. “Slow down or we’ll be pulled over before we get close to the hospital,” he advises. “Unless you’re planning to have the Brussels police department as back-up.”

Heero laughs. “That’ll be the day.”

Trowa studies Heero’s profile, lit by the lights in the dash and the occasional yellow glow of streetlights. “How are you?” he asks, eyeing the dark circles around Heero’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Trowa.” The car begins to slow. There’s a minute tremble to his left arm, but Trowa doesn’t comment on it. He turns his eyes back to the scenery passing by outside the window. The forest is giving way once more to fields and farmland. The car slows further and he’s able to glimpse a lone building every so often as well. “Guess you’re wishing you’d taken an earlier flight now.”

“No.” His voice is quiet and he feels Heero watching him. “Eyes on the road.” He tugs at the tie around his throat, loosening it. “Let’s try to end the night with no significant injuries,” Trowa suggests. He senses Heero’s eyes on him once again but keeps his gaze fixed on the world outside. A moment later Heero’s eyes return to the road and Trowa lets himself relax into the leather seat. “It’ll be a challenge.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Did Quatre make contact again?” Heero asks as they approach the hospital.

“Not since he reported the protestors in front of the hospital.” Trowa looks up from the phone and frowns at Heero’s expression. The other pilot is staring at the gathered crowd of picketers. “What are you thinking?”

They idle at the light, waiting for it to change. Heero drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he stares at the crowd and police officers. “We walk in,” he says finally.

“And the weapons?” Trowa asks. “They won’t let us in armed.”

Heero’s quiet again. The light changes and he hits the gas, heading for the hospital parking lot. “I might have a way.” Trowa raises his eyebrows but Heero doesn’t notice. “I may have a misplaced Preventers badge with me.”

Trowa gives his head a small shake. “Always full of surprises. That’ll get you in, what about me?”

“Hopefully they won’t question you,” Heero replies after a moment. He pulls into a parking spot and turns the car off. “We go in acting harried and annoyed and maybe they’ll let it slide.”

“I don’t think it will be acting,” Trowa comments, watching the crowd. He reaches for the door handle. “Ready?”

“Wait.” Trowa pauses, hand still on the door handle and looks at Heero curiously. “What’s Krusiec’s style?”

“He isn’t flashy,” Trowa says after a moment. “Dekim wanted the grand show, Krusiec wanted to go under the radar.”

“Who planned Relena’s abduction?”

“Krusiec.” Trowa hesitates. “I would have warned you if I could.”

Heero looks momentarily surprised before he nods. “I know,” he replies. “I never thought you were a traitor, Trowa.” He reaches for his own door. “Alright, let’s go.”

\--

“Why’s Une sending suits to us?” the officer at the blockade questions.

Heero shrugs and beside him Trowa looks bored. “All we were told was to get over here from Veertig’s party. She wants eyes on the girl.”

“Then she should corral this side show,” the officer snaps. “It’s not our job to protect rebels.”

“It is when they’re a child who hasn’t been charged with anything,” Trowa states. He pulls the phone out. “Should I inform Lady Une you have it handled?”

The officer glares at them before turning and spitting on the icy ground. “ _Merde_ ,” he grunts. He nods at the officer at the door. “They’re clear!” he calls. He shifts the blockade, allowing Heero and Trowa to step through. “Can’t wait until the brat is out of the city. Whole place has gone mad,” he mutters.

“We’ll let Une know of your concerns,” Heero remarks. Trowa nudges him through the blockade and they leave the press of the angry crowd behind. “What?” Heero asks.

“Low profile, remember?” Trowa drawls. He ignores Heero’s scowl.

The officer at the door steps aside so they can enter. “Your friend is waiting inside,” he says. He tips his head toward the lobby and they see Duo sprawled carelessly across two of the chairs.

“Thanks,” Heero says.

They enter the hospital and make their way to Duo’s spot. Duo looks up at them, sighs, and then gets to his feet. He yawns widely, stretching. “’Bout time,” he says. “I was getting bored waiting around. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

\--

They bypass the elevator and enter the north stairwell. Heero’s halfway up the stairs before Duo falls in step, stopping him on the landing. He leans against the wall, casually crossing his arms over his chest. Heero pauses, frown deepening as he meets Duo’s stare. “What?”

“Anyone want to tell me why it’s always _us_ that has to clean up other people’s messes?” Duo asks. “You said Noin was informing Une, any back-up coming to this shit-show?”

“We don’t know if the threat is real,” Trowa comments.

“Perfect,” Duo mutters. “You both owe me big time,” he adds. “I had to pull out my Preventers badge and everything to get you past security without questions.” He scrubs a hand over his face and looks up at the ceiling. “And your murder-mission persona is going to blow it,” he says, pointing at Heero. “Can you at least _act_ normal once in a while?”

“What about Quatre?” Trowa interrupts.

“He should be upstairs if he managed to escape the ER without notice.”

“ER?”

“He was _visiting_ a sick relative while I played agent,” Duo shrugs. “He was supposed to check-in ten minutes ago but reception in this place is terrible. I couldn’t even connect to any games while I waited.”

“You were supposed to be scouting.” Heero pushes past Duo, heading up the stairs again.

“Yeah, well, not much to scout while stuck in a lobby!” Duo trails after him, Trowa bringing up the rear. “I can tell you that the receptionist said the protests died down for a while and then started back up. But aside from an attempted bombing a few days ago there haven’t been any direct threats.”

They’re passing the fourth floor landing when Duo coughs. “Oh, one more thing,” he says, clearing his throat again. “Wufei decided to stick around. He should be with Quat.”

\--

Quatre is hovering outside the fifth floor lounge room, looking conspicuous in a pair of scrubs and loafers. He straightens when he sees them and gestures them over. “Don’t ask,” he says and before they can say anything in return he has the lounge door open and is herding them into it. Inside, Sally and Wufei are having a silent stare down.

“Well, aren’t we in a festive mood?” The sarcasm drips from Duo’s voice as he takes position leaning against the closed door, foot propped up behind him.

“Oh, good, you’ve joined us,” Wufei states. “This will be fun.”

Sally looks over at them and gives them a smile. “Noin called,” she explains.

“It seems Preventers were aware of the potential threat,” Wufei says, voice restrained.

“You’re using her as bait,” Trowa guesses.

“She’s a child,” Quatre protests.

Sally holds up her hands to stop the onslaught. “It’s a risky maneuver, but Lady Une thought it would be the quickest way to contain the rest of the main players in the Barton Rebellion.”

Heero shrugs out of the jacket, tossing it carelessly onto one of the waiting room chairs. “That’s why security was so terrible on this floor. Une was hoping for an intrusion.”

“It’s our best bet,” Sally replies. “We shouldn’t have been surprised that you’d figure it out.”

“Did Noin know?” Quatre asks.

Sally shakes her head. “No, Noin wasn’t informed.” She gives a helpless shrug. “It seemed the easiest solution, keep Mariemaia in the hospital and see if anyone attempted to grab her. When the messages started coming in about the party it seemed too convenient. But we couldn’t be sure that it was a ruse.”

Trowa shakes his head. “You don’t know Krusiec.”

“Barton’s right,” Wufei says.

“Well, _that’s_ a first, Wufei agreeing with someone. Is the world ending?”

Wufei ignores Duo. “If Krusiec is the one calling the shots then you’ll have bigger problems. He’s the one who got the rebels positions in the ESUN, for a smooth takeover. He won’t act unless he’s confident in victory.”

Sally’s eyes slide over to him and she raises her eyebrows. “Then it’s a good thing you all showed up, isn’t it? I doubt he planned for that.”

“Krusiec would have already put rebels in the hospital,” Trowa states.

“Impossible,” Sally replies, shaking her head. “I vetted the staff myself.”

“And who vetted Miss Relena’s conference?” Quatre asks. “From what I understand it was the delegates who drugged her for the abduction.”

Sally frowns. “We just went through a war, and subdued a potential rebellion - there can’t be that much dissent already. It’s barely been a year!”

Duo snorts and paces back and forth in the small lounge room. “We’re wasting time here,” he says.

“Where are you going?” Quatre asks.

“Someone needs to get some reliable intel and let’s be honest, I’m the best at sneaking around.”

Wufei looks dubious but Heero nods. Duo disappears out the door and Sally sits on one of the chairs. “We have agents undercover here as well, of course,” she states. “Lady Une took plenty of precautions.”

Wufei shakes his head. “You’re smarter than that,” he states. “Or you seemed to be.”

“We have to assume that he wants to extract her alive,” Trowa says.

“Why’s that?” Sally asks.

“If he has people in the hospital already then he could have easily had her killed before now,” Heero guesses. He glances at Trowa and the other pilot nods in agreement. “So, we move Mariemaia.”

\--

“You should have given us a head’s up,” Heero states.

“We were hoping not to involve you at all,” Sally replies. “Remember, none of you want anything to do with Preventers?”

“Duo is contracted.”

“To remove dangerous weapons,” Sally points out. “He didn’t want to run anymore missions.” Heero frowns as they stride down the hall from the lounge to the room Mariemaia is in. Duo is still out scouting and the other three pilots had headed in the opposite direction to secure the route to the parking garage. “There’s one way you could be in the know. You could sign on.”

“And Une could be upfront,” Heero retorts. They enter the dead end hall Mariemaia’s room is located in. “You said you had agents undercover here?”

“Yes, but if Trowa and Wufei are right about Krusiec having insiders, then it might be wise to keep it between us right now,” Sally replies. “Lady Une is on her way from Veertig’s party to oversee everything.” She gestures to the last room on the right. “This is hers.”

The glass doors slide open silently. The room is shrouded in darkness, only the lights from the monitors and the hall lights offering any illumination. Sally hits the light switch inside the door and pauses. There’s an old man sleeping in the bed.

Immediately she steps back into the hall, grabbing a passing nurse. “Where is the little girl?” she demands.

The nurse shrugs. “Check with Dr. Seibert, she must’ve gotten moved. I just clocked in.”

“No one in or out of this room, do you understand? Official Preventers decree,” Sally orders. The nurse blinks at her before nodding slowly. “I want a list of everyone who accessed this floor, _now_.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse replies.

“We’re wasting time,” Heero says. He pushes past Sally, heading back down the hallway, and pulling out his phone. “Put the hospital on lockdown, I’ll find the others.”

\--

Trowa and Wufei are quiet as they make their way toward the stairs. The halls are mostly empty with staff congregating around the nursing stations as they clock in and out. No one pays them much attention, busy checking charts or catching up on patients. Quatre frowns as he watches the activity.

“Why would he want the girl?” he asks.

“I imagine she knows something he doesn’t want Une to find out about.”

“Then why not kill her?” Quatre protests. “You make him sound ruthless, what would be the purpose of abduction?”

Wufei considers the question as they head toward the south stairwell. “Krusiec was never anything but second in command,” he says finally. “Mariemaia was the figurehead for the whole rebellion. If he can reinstate her then maybe he can incite people to fight for her again.”

“Essentially taking up Dekim’s role,” Quatre surmises. He shakes his head. “And I thought _we_ were young to be tangled up in this.”

“No one expects the children,” Trowa comments. He pushes open the stairwell door as his phone buzzes. Frowning, he pulls it out of his pocket. Quatre and Wufei are still discussing the ethics of child soldiers as he opens up the text from Heero. _M’s gone. Hospital going into lockdown._

“ _Code Purple, 7-year-old female, ICU recovery._ ”

“Problem?” Wufei asks as the alert is repeated.

Before he can respond there’s an ear-piercing shriek echoing through the stairwell. They cover their ears as the fire alarm sounds, white light flashing. The lights go dark before flickering back to life, though not as bright as before.

“ _Code white, code red emergency_.”

“That doesn’t sound good!” Quatre yells over the intermittent siren.

\--

“ _Code Purple, 7-year-old female, ICU recovery._ ”

“ _Code white, code red emergency_.”

The lobby is in turmoil, staff hurrying toward the emergency department and visitors being rounded up and moved to the waiting area. Duo falls in with the hurrying staff members, flashing his badge anytime it looks like he may be stopped. As he approaches the emergency department in the south wing the smell of smoke increases and the air gets noticeably warmer. Whatever fire is going is a strong one.

“We need to move the oxygen tanks,” he overhears an orderly instructing another staff member. “If they overheat they can cause major damage.”

“It’s never easy,” Duo mutters to himself. He catches sight of a head of pale blonde hair and makes his way over to Quatre standing by the stairwell. “Well, this is a shit-show,” he states.

“Yes,” Quatre agrees, nodding. “Wufei and Trowa went to check the evacuation route that way,” he says, gesturing. “I’ve been watching here.”

“And Heero?” Quatre shrugs and Duo sighs loudly. “Perfect.”

“Four o’clock,” Quatre says. Duo twists to look, spying Lady Une striding into the hospital through the front entrance. “What do you think?”

“She looks pissed,” he replies. “Might be a good idea to scout elsewhere.”

“You may be right.”

\--

“They could be long gone,” Wufei comments. “This is pointless.”

Trowa surveys the chaos outside critically. The protestors have all scattered and the air is filled with the piercing wail of fire engine sirens and a cacophony of voices. “They wouldn’t move her until the chaos happened,” Trowa replies. “Someone might’ve noticed otherwise.”

“How do you move the world’s most wanted seven-year-old without anyone noticing?” Wufei asks.

“Ambulance,” Trowa replies. He heads to where ambulances are pulling up outside the emergency department. Wufei falls into step next to him. “They’re moving critical patients to other hospitals.”

Wufei shakes his head. “Maybe Yuy should’ve killed her when he had the chance.”

Trowa glances at him curiously. “Do you honestly think that?”

“It would save us a lot of trouble.”

“Why didn’t you go with the suits?”

“I’ll catch up,” Wufei says. “Winner’s people seem competent enough.”

Trowa gives him a small smile. “You do care about the girl.” Wufei snorts derisively and Trowa lets it drop.

“Why did you agree to play guard dog to Relena Peacecraft?” Wufei counters. 

“That one,” Trowa says, nodding toward an ambulance slightly farther from the others. “It looks like it’s waiting.”

Wufei follows Trowa’s line of sight and nods. “Side entrance,” he says, gesturing to a door set back and half hidden by shrubs. “Maybe they’re planning an alternate escape.”

\--

Heero takes the elevator down, stopping at each level for a quick inspection. The lower floors are a flurry of activity compared to the upper floors. Patients are being prepped in case an evacuation is called and supplies line the hall. Heero steps off on the ground floor and looks down each side of the corridor.

The left leads to the lobby between hospital and emergency department and he hears noise and constant wailing coming from that direction. The right seems to run along the back of emergency. The arrow in front of him indicates radiology and a chapel.

Heero follows the corridor, pausing to check each door he passes. He pauses outside the chapel, hearing muffled voices through the heavy wooden door. He unholsters his gun, checks the safety, and then shoulders open the door.

There are two men and a woman in the room, all dressed in hospital scrubs, standing around a gurney. “I told you, there’s nothing I can do in this room!” the darker haired man exclaims.

The other man and the woman turn as the door opens, weapons drawn. The man is slightly older with prematurely gray-flecked brown hair and a pleasant face. The woman’s eyes are hard and her red hair is tied back in a thick braid. Behind them, Mariemaia lays on the stretcher, skin pale in the fluorescent lighting and breathing labored. “Not going to plan?” Heero asks.

“A minor setback,” the gray-haired man says. His eyes shift to something over Heero’s shoulder and Heero feels the muzzle of a gun press against the base of his skull. “So you didn’t defect after all, surprise, surprise. Won’t you hand me your weapon and join us, Mr. …?”

Heero is silent, gun still trained on the man and woman in front of him. The darker haired man edges away from the group slowly, hands raised. “I won’t ask again,” the gray-haired man states.

The woman approaches, hand outstretched for the gun. The gun presses into his skull and a hand presses into his back, between his shoulder blades. “Move,” the voice behind him says. They step into the room, the door closing with a thud.

“Preventers is on scene,” Heero says. “They’re locking down the hospital.”

“Except for this wing,” the woman replies. Her hand closes around the barrel of Heero’s gun. He hesitates before relinquishing it. She looks over at the dark-haired man. “Aren’t you supposed to be fixing her?”

“She’s going into respiratory distress!” the nurse exclaims. “At this point she’ll need a chest tube. We’re in a chapel without supplies, what do you want me to do?”

“We’ve wasted enough time,” the gray-haired man instructs. “Just take him with us and he can fix her in the ambulance.”

The woman glowers, turning back to Heero. “What do we do with this one?”

“Kill him. We don’t need two hostages, especially a Preventer.”

Heero feels the gun to his head shift slightly. He drops to the ground, rolling to the side, as the gun goes off, the percussive shots momentarily drowning out the fire alarm. He counts four shots in the moments it takes him to retrieve his gun from his ankle holster and crouch on the wood floor with the weapon pointed at the gray-haired man.

Trowa has his gun trained on the woman still. She lies sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. She coughs weakly, blood bubbling in her open mouth. The nurse makes a break for freedom but the gray-haired man grabs him easily. He lets out a low laugh, arm wrapped around the nurse’s throat and weapon pressed to his temple.

“Clever,” he says.

“What’s the plan, Krusiec?” Trowa asks. “You wouldn’t fall for something so obvious.”

“No,” Krusiec agrees. He gestures to the child on the stretcher. “Mariemaia Barton is dying, No-Name.”

Heero can feel Trowa bristle next to him. “Why go through this just to let her die?” Heero asks.

“She was more fragile than we anticipated,” Krusiec replies. “And, let’s face it, the staff here are useless.” He tightens his grip on the nurse’s throat. “This one can’t even save a child.”

“Please,” the man begs.

Behind Krusiec, Mariemaia gasps for air. “Trowa,” Heero says.

Krusiec laughs again. “ _Trowa_ ,” he sneers. “Claiming a dead man’s name just to destroy his legacy. Well, what will it be, _Trowa_? Let me go or save Miss Mariemaia? Tick, tick.”

Heero lunges, he’s 90% sure the stitches in his calf tore, keeping low to the ground and trying to avoid the pooling blood. Krusiec jerks, firing off a quick shot. He feels the burn as the shot passes through his left bicep. More shots echo in the chapel and he sees Krusiec and the nurse go down.

He collides with Krusiec, knocking the gun out of his hand and pistol-whipping him in the temple with his own. There’s a bullet hole in Krusiec’s shoulder and two in his chest. Only the one in the shoulder is bleeding and Heero would bet good money that he was wearing some type of Kevlar vest. The nurse is hyperventilating on the floor next to them.

“You’re alright,” Heero says to the nurse.

“I’ve been shot!”

“You were grazed,” Trowa replies. He steps over the woman’s body and checks Mariemaia. “She needs medical attention. Labored breathing, fever, and it looks like some bleeding.”

“Get up,” Heero says. He grabs the nurse with his good arm and pulls him up. “Go get help or that girl is going to die.”

“What about him?”

“He’ll live,” Heero replies. He nudges Krusiec with a foot, feels blood drip down his ankle. “Get help now.” He shoves him toward the door. The nurse hesitates, looking back at them, before hurrying out the door and down the hall. Heero pulls his phone out. “I’m calling Sally, I doubt he’ll be much help.”

“Smart,” Trowa replies. He crouches by the woman, feeling for a pulse. “Nothing,” he says, answering Heero’s unasked question.

Heero nods. “Sally? We have her. Chapel. She’s not doing well. Krusiec needs a medic. You might want a coroner too.” He disconnects and scoops up the gun the woman had taken from him. “Know her?”

“No,” Trowa replies. He rubs his temples and glances at the door. Heero follows his gaze and gives a curt nod.

He follows Trowa out of the chapel and to a side exit further down the corridor. They exit the heat of the hospital into the crisp night air. The alarms and sirens are still blaring, but not as deafening outside in the open. To the left the staff are triaging and moving patients into waiting ambulances, or into the main admissions wing. There’s an ambulance surrounded by officers a few meters away.

Heero turns right, heading away from the hospital, and it’s Trowa’s turn to follow him.


	22. Chapter 22

They leave the wail of sirens behind, traveling west from the city center back to the hotel. The snow picks up as they walk, flakes falling slow and heavy in the cold air and covering the scattered blood droplets trailing them until they’re no longer visible. The room is empty when they arrive and Trowa immediately herds Heero into the bathroom before retrieving the medical bag from the table.

“Let me see,” Trowa says as soon as the bathroom door closes behind him.

“It’s not that bad,” Heero says. He leans against the counter, weight resting more heavily on his right leg. The bathroom lights catch on the snowflakes melting in their hair. “I think it’s stopped bleeding.”

Trowa busies himself with the medical bag and Heero sighs heavily. He removes the shoulder holster and unbuttons his shirt. The sleeve clings to his left arm and he has to give it a couple of tugs to peel it off.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Wufei and I found the side entrance,” Trowa replies. He pulls out the suturing thread and a needle, setting them on the counter. “He was watching the ambulance, I was watching the corridor. You pulled your gun before going in.”

“It was risky, following me. Krusiec might have killed you on the spot.”

“I was more worried about your reaction.”

Heero snorts, then makes a face as Trowa applies antiseptic to the graze on his bicep. “I’ve felt your hands on me enough times to know when it’s you.” Trowa glances at him, eyebrows raised and Heero frowns. “You know what I mean.”

“Mm,” Trowa hums. He tapes a strip of gauze down over the graze, fingers brushing the scar along Heero’s inner arm. “Going for a matching set?” he asks.

“You’re as funny as Duo,” Heero replies.

Trowa steps back, eyeing Heero speculatively. The left trouser leg clings to his calf and is spotted with darker coloration. “I’m going to have to resuture a lot,” he says finally. “It’ll be easier if you’re lying down.”

Heero lowers himself carefully to the floor, stretching out on the tiles. Trowa crouches next to him, gingerly pulling the trouser leg free and rolling it up. The laceration has reopened, blood coating his lower leg and staining his sock. Trowa reaches up, grabs the scissors, needle, and suture thread.

“How bad?” Heero asks, head resting on his folded arms.

“I’ve seen you worse,” Trowa says after a moment. He cuts away the torn sutures, setting the thread aside, before he uses gauze to clean away as much of the bleeding as he can. “I hope you weren’t attached to these shoes.”

Heero shrugs, muscles shifting smoothly in his back. “They were part of Relena’s kit,” he says. “I’m fine with my sneakers.”

Trowa begins stitching the laceration shut again, pausing periodically to wipe away the blood that bubbles up. Each time he pauses he glances over at the back of Heero’s head, notes the way the muscles are beginning to relax in his shoulders and back. He ties off the last stitch, lets his fingers slide down to the shoe.

“May I?”

“Sure,” Heero replies. He shifts, head turning to watch as Trowa undoes the laces and slides the shoe off. He removes the sock as well. “Definitely ruined.” Trowa reaches for one of the clean hand towels, carefully wiping away the drying blood from Heero’s skin. When he finishes he removes the other shoe and sock, shrugging when he catches Heero’s amused look.

“You looked funny with only one on.”

Heero’s expression shifts from amused to serious as he rolls over, sitting up on the floor. Trowa raises an eyebrow curiously. “Now you.”

“I’m fine.”

“I counted eight shots in the chapel. One grazed me, three hit Krusiec, and three were in the woman. That’s two unaccounted for and you haven’t removed your jacket yet.” Trowa sighs and pulls the jacket off carefully. The white shirt is stuck to his right side, red and wet with fresh blood from a gash along his rib cage. Heero’s frown deepens and he shifts closer to unbutton the shirt. “You could’ve said something.”

“It’s just a graze. I was going to fix it after you were stitched up.”

“Uh huh.” He ducks his head to inspect the wound. Trowa reaches up, pulling the bag and another clean towel from the counter. “Thank you.”

Trowa lets his head rest back against the cold tile wall, eyes sliding closed against the bright lights of the bathroom. He feels exhaustion settling into his body as Heero carefully cleans the wound. His temples still throb from the combination of smoke and sirens. “You okay with a couple stitches?” Heero asks quietly after a few moments.

“Go ahead.”

Heero returns to the graze, neatly suturing the edges together. His fingers brush against the bruising already surfacing around the injury and Trowa hisses out a breath. “Sorry,” Heero says, breath warm against Trowa’s skin. Trowa shivers at the sensation. He hadn’t realized just how close Heero had gotten. Heero finishes up, rubs some of the antibiotic ointment over the wound, and then bandages it. “Any other injuries?”

“No,” Trowa replies. He opens his eyes to find Heero’s own blue eyes staring at him. He blinks and Heero shifts back a fraction. “We should contact the others.” He lets his eyes slide shut again, ignoring the glare of the light on the tiles.

“Probably,” Heero agrees. “Migraine?”

“It’s fine.”

Heero’s quiet but Trowa can hear a shuffling sound. A moment later there’s a soft click and the lights beyond his eyelids dim. “Come on,” Heero says, voice soft. Trowa feels a hand wrapping around his upper arm. “You don’t want a repeat of Toulouse, do you?”

Trowa sighs, letting Heero pull him to his feet. “If you hadn’t attracted that soldier’s attention it would have been fine,” Trowa protests.

Heero ignores him, opening the door and flipping more switches. Trowa makes his way into the main room where only one dim light is on. He sheds the rest of his clothes as he makes his way to the bed, crawling in between the cool sheets. He can hear the sound of running water in the bathroom as he tosses and turns, trying to find a position where his head isn’t throbbing and his side isn’t aching.

“Here,” Heero says. A wet washcloth is placed over his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

He catches Heero’s wrist by blind chance. “Call Quatre or he’ll worry,” he says.

“Go to sleep, Trowa.”

\--

Heero stretches out in bed, flexes his foot back and forth to test the sutures in his left calf. “Stop,” Trowa commands. Heero glances over at where he’s bundled under the covers, the damp washcloth has slipped from covering his eyes. “If you reopen them you’re on your own.”

Heero rolls his eyes. “I thought you were asleep.” He reaches over to test the washcloth. “Want me to run it under the water again?”

“No,” Trowa sighs. “Did you contact the others?”

“Yes.” He waits long enough for Trowa to frown. “They’re on their way back.” Trowa nods, then winces. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as Toulouse,” Trowa says. He squints up at Heero. “I haven’t had one this bad since after the Vayeate. It was probably the alarm.”

There’s a clatter at the door and then it swings open with a bang. Heero frowns as Trowa’s face smooths into a blank expression. The lights flicker on and Duo yelps. “Geeze, why are you two sitting here in the dark?” Duo demands as Quatre and Wufei file in behind him. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Trowa gives him a warning look before sitting up. “How did it go?” he asks.

Quatre looks exhausted and washed out in the green scrubs. “Downtown is a nightmare,” he says. “And everyone thought I worked for the hospital.”

“Because you’re dressed like you do,” Wufei states.

“Why are you dressed like an orderly?” Duo asks, peering at him.

Quatre sighs and sits down on the bed to remove his loafers. “There may have been an incident when I was leaving the ER. It may or may not have involved a drunken woman vomiting all over me.”

“Ah, gotta love New Year’s Eve, eh?” Duo asks.

Quatre shrugs. “It gave me an excuse to leave.”

Wufei hangs his coat up before taking a seat at the table. “What happened to you?” Heero asks, taking in his blackening eye.

“The ambulance Barton noticed turned out to be suspicious after all,” he comments. “There was an altercation.”

“Is that the one we saw when we left?” Heero asks.

Trowa gives a curt nod. “Yes. It was crawling with Preventers.”

“They got involved when I shot the driver,” Wufei replies with a shrug. Quatre sputters, looking up in shock.

“You didn’t tell us you shot anyone!” Duo exclaims. “Are you going back to jail?”

“It was justified,” Wufei replies. Duo groans, flopping onto the bed and jostling Quatre. “I never liked Oretsev, he was an idiot. Stop gawking Winner, he’ll live.” Wufei glances over at Trowa. “What happened with you? You never came out the side door.”

“Heero found Krusiec,” Trowa replies. “I was back-up.”

“And is _he_ dead?” Duo asks.

“If he isn’t, he probably wishes he were,” Heero replies.

“Did you find Mariemaia?” Quatre questions. Heero nods and Quatre lets out a breath. “How was she?”

Heero shrugs. “I think she’ll live.”

Duo reaches over, grabbing the remote. “Have you seen any of the news coverage yet?”

“No. Duo-”

“He’s right,” Trowa says. Heero turns to stare at him. His face is still carefully blank, but his eyes look more focused than when they were in the bathroom. “We should see what they’re saying.”

Quatre gets up stiffly. “I’m going to take a shower, I can still feel the vomit on me. Catch me up on what I miss.”

“I’m sure they’ll be repeating themselves for days, you won’t miss anything,” Wufei says.

Duo flips the television on, scrolling until he finds the news channel he wants. He lets out a sudden laugh and Wufei looks at him sharply. “Can you believe it’s only eleven-thirty?” he asks. “Cheers to the end of another hellish year, think 197 will be any better?”

“Don’t jinx it,” Heero warns. He settles back against the pillows he has propped against the headboard. Beside him, Trowa lays down once again, curled on his side with an arm thrown over his face. Absently, Heero reaches over and runs his fingers through Trowa’s hair, mimicking the motions Trowa had used on him a few days prior. Trowa sighs and gradually Heero feels him relax.

He glances up to find Wufei watching them silently. He raises an eyebrow questioningly and Wufei waves a hand dismissively. He pushes up from the table after a moment. “I’m getting ice,” he announces, grabbing the empty ice bucket. He flips the light switches off as he passes them.

“Thanks, man, that helps!” Duo calls. He sits on his bed, unbraiding his hair and finger combing it as he watches the television.

Trowa hisses quietly as Heero shifts to massaging the temporal artery. He lets his thumb smooth along the swollen artery from the corner of his eyebrow back to his ear. It takes a few sweeps before he feels Trowa relax once again. After a minute or two, Trowa shifts, rolling onto his back so that Heero has access to both temples. Heero shifts, careful of upsetting the bed too much, and reaches over to massage both sides of Trowa’s head. Trowa lets out a soft sigh, eyes still closed.

“Better?” Heero asks, voice pitched low and mostly masked by the news program Duo is watching.

“Yes,” Trowa replies. He tilts his head, pressing it closer to Heero’s hands.

“Go to sleep,” Heero murmurs. He continues the massage until Trowa’s breathing evens out, face relaxed. He turns his attention to the news station and doesn’t notice he’s gone back to running fingers through Trowa’s hair until the bathroom door opens and Quatre exits.

“My turn!” Duo exclaims, bounding out of bed in a flurry of limbs and hair. “Here you go!” He tosses the remote to Heero and almost collides with Wufei who is just returning with the ice.

“Everything alright?” Quatre asks.

“Just tired,” Heero replies.

“You can say that again,” Quatre says. He collapses onto the bed, sighing. “Somehow this past week has made me more tired than the entire war did.” He lifts his head to look at Wufei. “How’s the eye?”

“Still working,” Wufei replies. He wraps ice in a towel he was able to liberate from the bathroom before Duo locked himself in and presses it to his eye.

Heero listens to Duo singing in the shower, to Quatre quickly drift off to sleep, to Wufei’s quiet movements. He stares at the news coverage of the fire without really paying attention to what the reporter is saying. Next to him Trowa shifts in his sleep and Heero glances over at him, watches the rise and fall of his chest, traces the white bandage along his ribs, before returning to his face.

“It’s been a long night, Yuy.” He looks up, momentarily surprised by Wufei’s voice. Wufei is watching him through his good eye, make-shift ice pack pressed to his swollen one. “The only immediate danger is Maxwell’s _singing_ or Winner’s snoring.”

Heero tilts his head, returning Wufei’s stare. Duo is still singing in the other room as he picks up the remote. “You’re right. Good night.”

“Good night,” Wufei replies.

He flicks the television off, plunging the room into darkness except for the light under the bathroom door and coming through the crack in the drapes. He slides down in bed, punching the pillows into something comfortable. He drifts off to the feeling of Trowa pressed along his side.


End file.
